Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned
by EstrangeloEdessa
Summary: Moth breaks out of prison and, with help from some unlikely (and highly suspicious) people, sets out to get revenge on Sabrina Grimm.
1. The Trial

"How do you plead?"

They sit there, in a semicircle of seats raised above me, glaring down at me. Am I afraid? Never. I stare them right back in the eyes and tell them, "I, Moth, daughter of Lord Peascod and Lady Squash, princess of Faerie, and handmaiden to the queen Titania, do not _plead_."

This is not the response they were expecting. There is a sudden storm of whispering between them, and many look confused. Finally, Mustardseed, sitting front and center, leans over his podium. I glare at him. When he and Titania searched Faerie for someone qualified to judge me, they found no one. They had to think of someone quickly, and who could ever be more suitable for the job than the little goodie two shoes, Mustardseed? He meets my gaze and asks, "Did you or did you not purposely kill King Oberon with a specially brewed poison?"

"I rid Faerie of an idiotic, overaged tyrant, yes."

"And did you or did you not purposely kill the healer Cobweb, in full awareness of his complete innocence?"

"I disposed of a meddling, cowardly fairy, yes."

"And did you or did you not attempt to murder the innocent and defenseless human Sabrina Grimm?"

"She was not innocent or defenseless! She—"

"Answer the question!"

Gritting my teeth, I growl out, "Yes."

"She has confessed!" Mustardseed turns to the council, one hand extended. "Once the penalty for murder would have been death! But now, under the new system this is not allowed. Therefore, I sentence Moth to a lifetime in prison." He looks at the guards. "Take her away."

I try to maintain my composure, but the guards yank me away and drag me across the floor. My bare feet skid painfully across the hard surface.

"Stop, stop!" I scream. Dirt and rocks—when was the last time they _cleaned_ this place?—lodge themselves under my toenails. I grit my teeth and try to move my feet as fast as the guards', but the cruel men give me no opportunity to regain my balance. "Slow down! _You are hurting me, you fools!_"

They don't listen. I am dragged down a cold, wet flight of stairs, through a heavy door, and down another two flights. The air down here is frigid, and my thin dress, I offers no protection. The guards throw me shivering face-down onto the stone floor of a dungeon. The breath is knocked out of my body and for a moment I am too winded to move. As quickly as I can, I leap up and run to the thick door. I can barely see out the tiny barred window. "No!" I cry, even though I know it will do no good. "Don't leave me here! No!" But I see the guards' shadows moving away, and I sink down to the floor.

How could Puck do this to me? I have loved him, adored him, for thousands of years—how could he just go and abandon me like this? And for that human girl, too! What does he see in her that he does not see in me? Is she prettier than I am? Impossible! What, then? Why?

I don't know how long I lie there, defeated. Eventually, though, I become aware of other noises. Cautiously, I lift my head and look around. The room is enormous, obviously built for more than one person, but there is no one here but me. So what's making the noi—

"AAAAAAAAAAH!" A hand is suddenly on my shoulder. I spin around, desperate to find my attacker in the gloom. A face smiles down at me, and I can't tell if I like the smile or not.

"Oh, good. _Company_." It's a woman's voice, somewhat gloating. She seems old and harmless. My panic fades, turning into annoyance.

"Get your hand off me, freak." I scramble away, dislodging the disgusting, veiny thing from my shoulder. She chuckles and steps a bit closer.

"You think I'm going to hurt you, don't you?" She shakes her head, still chuckling. "Oh, don't _worry_. I don't hurt little fairies in pretty dresses, not usually."

I stand up and brush dirt off my gown. I look down at the woman—she's completely hunched over—and say, "Look, old lady, I have no idea who you are and I most certainly do not care. If you have some way to help me, please do so. If you do not, kindly leave me alone and stay on your own side of the room. I do not associate with greasy old crones."

Her eyes twinkle. "Greasy old crones, eh? I assume you mean me. I might have help. I might not. I _might_ know a way out of here. I might not."

"You know a way out!"

"You want the greasy old crone's help? Ha ha, she might not give it to you!"

"How do I get out? Tell me now!"

"Ask _nicely_."

How dare she? Stiffly, I draw myself up and tell her, " I. Don't. _Ask_."

"Well, that's a shame. If you don't ask, I won't answer."

It seems to be getting colder by the second. Any longer here and I'll freeze to death. I have to get out, no matter what it takes, even if it means bowing to the wishes of this creepy old woman. "Fine. How do I get out of here… please?"

She claps. "Good _job_! Seems I was wrong, you really _can_ learn. Now, tell me, little girl, before I show you: why do you want out so bad?"

"What? Are you _insane_? Who _wouldn't_ want out of here?"

"Now _there's _a question. Who wouldn't want out? There are many beneath your notice, Princess Moth. Roaches, for one. The roaches love this place."

"Roaches? Eew! How do you know my name?"

"Believe me, everyone knows _your_ name, Princess Moth. You're a beacon of hope to some of us. And then there's me, of course."

"You? What?"

"I don't mind staying in here."

"You're still talking about that? When are you going to get me out?"

"Answer my question! What is out there that you need?"

I sigh and answer her. "Puck."

"Oh, yes, your fiancée who left you. Twice. Yes, I've heard much about him. You truly love him, then?"

"Yes! I do! I love him but he hates me and I don't know why and I can't see _why_ he had to run away like that. I mean, we would have married, and with Oberon out of the way, we would have ruled Faerie together! It would have been… happily ever after. Forever. If not for _her_."

There's a long silence. I stand with my head bowed, hating Sabrina Grimm for all she's done. The woman watches me. After a long time, she breaks the silence. "Seems like an excellent reason to me."

"Great. You'll tell me the way out now, I assume."

"Oh, yes. There's much hidden in a reflection." And with that, she starts hobbling away.

"What? Wait—how do I get out!"

"Think." She leers at me over her shoulder, then disappears into the darkness.


	2. The Visit

It's gotten colder. I don't know how much time has passed. It could be a day now since they threw me in here; it could be five. I don't know. I don't care. They've given us food, stale bread and stagnant water, three times, but that's nothing to go on. The first two times I ignored them. I am a princess—no! I am an abandoned queen!—and I should _not_ have to eat that _rubbish_ they throw in here! But before long my belly, already hurting, begins to cramp up more painfully than anything I've ever felt before. So I force myself to banish my pride and swallow some of the bread. It is terrible, but now, curled up in a corner in my futile attempt to keep warm, my stomach feels much better.

A couple days ago, when I was sharing a lousy hotel room with Sabrina Grimm, I had to listen to her complain about her grandmother's cooking. I would love to see her try to eat _my_ new meals. Just how much would the little human complain _then_?

The creepy old lady doesn't try to talk to me again. She stays in her corner, I stay in mine, just like I told her to. I can't see her or hear her, thank goodness, and she hasn't touched any of the food. Idly, I wonder how she survives. Does she eat the roaches? Eew. I wouldn't put it past her.

I just sit there like that, thinking and thinking and trying to ignore the fact that I will undoubtedly freeze to death in a couple of days. _What's the point of being an Everafter_, I wonder, _if you can still freeze to death_? I watch the leftover water I couldn't bring myslef to drink trickle out of a hole in the metal cup. It runs in a tiny little stream through cracks in the stone floor to a small indent by the far wall. There, it collects into what might be called a puddle. Really, it is just a little damp spot.

A sudden noise outside the door interrupts my observations. Scurrying over, I press my ear to the barred window and hear:

"I _wish_ to make peace with my husband's killer."

"Of course, Majesty, but—"

"Are you telling me what to do?"

From the sound of both voices, I can tell that this argument has been going on for some time. Two sets of footsteps echo down the hall, coming my way. I can hear the second voice, some guard, mumbling weak protests and trying to persuade Titania from visiting me. Finally, though, her voice cuts across his, saying, "I am your queen. Open the door. _Now_." And he does.

There's a sharp intake of breath. Titania looks around the cell with cold eyes. "I can see why you didn't want me down here," she remarks casually, yet with more than a hint of malice in her voice. "I had no idea my prisoners were treated in such a way."

The guard bows his head and says nothing.

"I intend to visit her again sometime soon. I hope that by then the area will be more accommodating."

Without a word, he backs out. Titania walks over to me, but does not sit down. To proud, I suppose, to soil her oh-so-royal behind with the filth of this place. "Why are you here?" I ask her, my voice scathing. I stand straight and look her in the eye. No way am I going to grovel at the feet of this supposed queen! But she does not seen offended. Instead, she sighs and looks away. She almost looks... sad.

"I came..." Her voice is weak. "I came because I wished to speak with you."

"Obviously."

She flinches but continues. "I thought perhaps... we have both lost loved ones..."

"Oh, I see. You thought that perhaps because we both have similar experiences, we might confide in each other, become friends again? Titania, I hate you. You think you know what I'm feeling? You have no idea. At least Oberon didn't _leave_ you."

"No, he didn't. You killed him." Ah, for a moment there she's a strong queen again, the woman I used to respect. "Why did you do it, Moth? Why? You have always been my most trusted servant. I have always been kind to you. What did I do to deserve _this_ from you?" She nearly screams the last sentence.

"You did nothing. But know this, Titania: I would have killed you, too, if you had stood in my way. And, Titania, I may yet do so."

"My, my, Moth. I wonder what Peaseblossom would say if he saw you acting like this."

I leap forward, suddenly furious. "No!" I scream. "Never mention that name, you hear me? _Never_!"

"He would be ashamed, you know. He would—"

"Shut up!" My voice almost tears, it is so shrill. Titania still stands there, triumphant because she got such a reaction from me. How dare she? _How dare she?_ Screeching, I throw myself forward and grasp her around the neck. She gasps and tries to shake me off.

"What are you doing?" she cries.

I am beyond reason. This woman knows better than to bring up my past. She knew I would be angry at the very mention of him; _why_ did she say it? To rile me, of course. Well, it worked. Oh, yes, it worked! I kick and punch, determined to make her take those words back. And she will! I will _force_ her to!

And then suddenly, I am thrown back. I hit the floor with a grunt and scramble back up to my feet. Titania tucks away her flute, which she used to call a small cloud of pixies. What, is she too royal and proper to defend her own self? I run at her again, but she slips back out the door and locks it as I pound on it.

She looks through the tiny window. "I will visit you again soon, Moth," she says. "I will not give up."

"Good luck with that," I snarl, and glare at her as she walks away.


	3. The Escape

After Titania leaves, I have one clear thought: I must get out of here. I must find Puck, convince him that all he needs, all he wants, is me. And I must kill Sabrina Grimm.

I run around my half of the cell, searching for a way out, but steer clear or the old lady's half. I still haven't heard a word from her, and that's fine with me. She can stay in whatever little world she occupies. I don't want that disgusting hand on my shoulder again. Meanwhile, I dig my fingernails into cracks in the floor, searching for hidden panels; push and shove against rocks in the walls, hoping some are loose; and kick everything within reach when I find nothing. Still, I don't give up. Every hair-thin line holds the promise of a secret doorway. Every slab of stone must be tested again and again and again for means of escape. I keep at it for who knows how long, until suddenly, I find myself waking up crouched against a wall.

I look around, trying to get my bearings. I must have fallen asleep while scratching around, I think blearily. Last night I was in such a frenzy, I barely knew what I was doing. Now I'm exhausted, stiff, and have a cramp in my legs. I stand up slowly, moaning as my thighs and calves uncurl themselves painfully. I even need to cling to the wall to keep myself from falling. My mouth is parched. I need water.

I totter over to the door and look through the tiny barred window. No one. I look for the puddle I saw form last night, but that's already evaporated. My tongue, lying fat in my mouth, makes me curse my stupidity to refuse the first two cups, and then to watch the third trickle away. Trying to ignore it, I go back to searching for a way out, but with none of the fervor of before. I know I've looked at every individual rock on my side of the room. That leaves one thing, then: to go over to the creepy old lady's half.

But before I really begin to contemplate the horrifying thought, footsteps approach the door. I scramble over as fast as I can, and see a guard—the one who came with Titania—carrying a tray with more bread and water. When he gets close enough, he leers at me. "The queen sent you more, little girl. Picked out what went on the tray herself, she did."

And indeed, the water cup is much larger and cleaner, and the bread seems much more palatable. My stomach growls just from the meager smell, but I still have my pride. "Titania is no queen," I inform the guard. "Puck is king, and I am his queen."

"Right, and those rags you're wearing are your royal robes, I assume."

I look down at myself. Days of lying on this floor have stained my dress beyond repair, and the sharp rocks have torn the cobweb-thin material. It _was_ a royal dress... once.

I look back at the guard. "I need more than a loaf and water. I need a blanket. It is cold here, in the middle of winter. I need substantial clothes. I need real food. I need a bath."

"A bath, eh?" He gets a mischievous look in his eyes. Before I can wonder what he's thinking about, he throws the water from the cup through the window. It splashes all over me. I scream from the sudden cold, and he laughs. "Clean up, O Royal Queen. Titania plans to visit later today." He tosses the bread through the bars and leaves.

And here I thought it wasn't possible for me to get any colder. Still, water is water, and I lick what I can from my bare arms, then squeeze drops from my dress into my mouth, cursing Sabrina Grimm. Had she not stolen Puck, he never would have abandoned me, and I would now be enjoying the best foods in Faerie's courts instead of scrambling for mere drops of dirty water. They aren't nearly enough. Most of the water ran down to the same spot it did yesterday. I follow the stream all the way to the pool of water it's formed. It's not until then that I realize that I'm in the old lady's half of the room.

Where is she?

The room is completely empty. From my old spot I couldn't see into the darkness over here, but now, I can see clearly that there isn't a soul but me. Her disappearance worries me, but only for a moment. She was an Everafter, or she wouldn't have been in our prison. And if she's an Everafter, there's no knowing what she can do. Forgetting about her, I lean over the pool of water to get my drink.

The surface is completely still, and I can see my reflection. It shocks me. I look even worse than I imagined. My hair is no longer smooth and shining, but filthy, bedraggled, sticking up everywhere and piled on top of my head like a rat's nest. Worse than a rat's nest. Splotches of dirt, broken up by the streams of water the guard threw on me, cover my face and neck. I don't see the rest of my body, but I'm sure it can't be any better.

The image stirs something in my memory. What was it the old lady had said? _There is much hidden in a reflection. _What could be hidden here? I see the stones of the floor beneath my reflection, both images layered over each other. That's not any help. Forgetting my thirst, I plunge my hand into the puddle and get an enormous shock. It doesn't feel wet! Instead, it feels like it's just touching the floor—but then, when I move my hand, whatever I'm touching moves with it, like... well... like Jell-O. Or pudding. I push, and feel a hole form. My hand is sticking out into an empty space. What is this? The prison is underground! I jiggle my hand some more, but it splashes the water—I still _see _the water, I just don't _feel _it—out of the puddle. I can't lose it! Keeping my hand in its mysterious space, I lean down and lap the water up like a dog.

This isn't the smartest thing to do.

I don't notice it at first, but soon I try to shift my hand, and it barely moves. With a jolt, I realize what an idiot I've been—of course the water makes the magic work, and I've taken it away! I stop myself from drinking any more, but it's hard. I can't move my hand now. What do I do? I try pulling it out. It takes some time, but finally I manage to shift it a little. That little movement feels better to me than anything else so far has. Even with the water gone, I can still dig my way out!

I finally get my left hand free and start scrabbling at the dirt and rock around the hole. I can't see much of what's outside—it's all dark—but it has to be better than this prison. I knock loose dirt, dislodge rocks, and get unspeakable amounts of filth under my fingernails. Still, I keep going. I work away at the ground like a little squirrel. Dirt flies everywhere. Before long, the hole is big enough for my head. I consider squeezing through now, but it wouldn't work. My hips won't fit.

Suddenly, I hear voices down the hall. Titania and the guard again. I can almost make out what they're saying.

"Have her living conditions been improved?'

"Oh, very much, Your Majesty. She even took a bath today." I can hear the snicker in his voice.

"Excellent. Let me in."

Oh no oh no oh no! I stand up and use my bare feet to kick at the edge of the hole, gritting my teeth against the pain. The hole give much faster this way. Not fast enough, though; I hear the key being shoved in the lock, I hear it turning. I kick harder. The door handle turns. Rocks fly. The hinges squeak. Is the hole big enough? Please, please be big enough, I pray, then jump in.

A brief glimpse of their shocked faces, a sudden switch in gravity, and I'm lying outside the statue in Central Park. For a moment I can't believe it. Then I let out an enormous victory yell into the night air. I did it! Those two will never fit through, they're much too large, I did it! I DID IT!

I'M FREE!


	4. The Gift

I'm free.

The lovely night air is like a furnace after the cold of the prison cell. It wraps around me and I take a deep breath. I've forgotten what fresh air smells like. Too happy to do anything, run anywhere, I walk slowly to a bench and lie down. True, I would probably have no problem breaking into a hotel, but I love just being outside under the trees. I lie on my back, taking deep breaths. Soon, I find my eyes closing peacefully. I will just fall asleep here. I have time, plenty of time, before Titania or Mustardseed track me down. They have no idea where I am. I can rest.

Suddenly, a voice interrupts my thoughts. "_You've_ loved and lost, you have."

Sighing, I open my eyes and look. There's some weird old lady standing by the bench leering at me. Ugh. Another one.

"Scootch over now, there's a good girl, scootch over."

"Go away." I close my eyes again, but suddenly, she pushes my legs aside. I recoil from her touch, screaming "Eew!" Who knows how long it's been since this homeless freak washed her hands! "Don't _touch_ me!"

But she just smiles happily and settles down on the bench, looking like a fat old hen sitting on a bunch of imaginary chicks. "There now." She pulls an old shopping cart to her and gazes off into space, humming gently. She's taking up more than half of the bench, but I refuse to move. This is my bench and she has no business here. I am a queen and I will stand up for what is mine, even if it is nothing but a little park bench!

"_Get off_."

"Now that's not welcoming at all, now is it, hmm?"

"I _said—_"

"Old bones need rest, they do, old bones." Why can't she just talk like a normal person? "I gotta lotta old bones." What is _wrong_ with her?

"There are plenty of other places where you can rest." I try to remain as calm as possible, but her persistent smile isn't helping. "I must ask you to leave _now_."

She does nothing, just rummages through her cart. I start to wonder if anybody important would notice if I just kick her in the stomach and drag her away, but then she asks, "So, who was he, then?"

"Who?"

"Said, you've loved and lost, you have, so who'd you lose?"

"Why do you care?"

"I care about everybody's business, I do."

"How do you even _know_?"

"Oh, I know. You've got that look."

"Look?"

"Misery. Despair. Self-pity. Whininess."

"I am not whiny!"

"Right. Just got the look."

"I don't! I'm not wallowing in self-pity, I am going to find him, and I am going to kill that girl who stole him from me once and for all! I love him and nothing is going to interfere with that, especially some stupid little _human_!" And then I stop, because I realize that this woman is probably human, too.

If she notices anything strange, though, she doesn't show it. She just goes on looking through her stuff and humming. It's likely she's forgotten about me already, stupid human. And then I realize I want to keep talking. There's something about this woman. She's so simple, so calm, she's _easy_ to talk to. So I keep going, feelings becoming thoughts becoming words becoming sound. "I'm going to track her down. I'm going to walk, I'm going to fly, I'm going to do whatever it takes to get to her, and I'm going to kill her. She thinks she's so high-and-mighty, so perfect because she's not an Everafter. How could he fall for her? She deserves to die. And once she's gone, he'll realize how worthless she really is, and he'll love me. I know it. He'll love me. Because—" And suddenly, to my shock, I realize that I'm crying.

I haven't cried in hundreds of years. I can't even remember the last time I shed a tear. I didn't cry the first time Puck ran away, or during my trial. Even locked up in that dark, filthy cell, I didn't cry. So why am I crying now?

I thought the woman was ignoring me, but then she pulls a handkerchief out of her cart and hands it to me. I take it wordlessly. When did I sink so low, I wonder, that I must accept hankies from homeless human women? But I wipe my eyes and nose on it thankfully. Thankful, because this is the first gesture of kindness I've received in a long time.

"There, now," the woman whispers, and pulls me into a hug. I'm shocked. My mother never hugged me like this. Oh, she hugged me, certainly, but those hugs were hard and cold, formal. But now I bury my face in the shoulder of this strange woman and dissolve into another wave of tears. I can't tell how long we stay like that. It seems like hours. Maybe it is. She strokes my hair gently, the way a mother should. "Pretty hair," she whispers. "So pretty. I had pretty hair once, I did. Hair is a woman's crowning glory." I glance at her snow-white locks. They _do_ seem glorious on her. She takes my face in her soft, wrinkled hands and examines it. "You're a pretty girl. Here."

She leans over her cart again and pulls something out. A mirror. Light glints off its surface as she gives it to me. It's not a fancy mirror at all, just ordinary black plastic, and the glass is cracked. Still, I hug it to myself, because it's a gift from this wonderful old woman. "Thank you."

"It's all right now, all right." She pushes some hair back from my face and wipes my eyes dry again. "You're a pretty girl, you've loved and lost, but you'll find again. You'll find, right?"

I feels some strength returning. "Yes. I'll find." I look in the mirror. I look even worse than before, with my hands and dress covered in dirt and my eyes rimmed with red. I look ugly, but not weak. I stand up. "I'll find." The sun will probably come up soon. "I'll find you, Puck. I'll find _you_, too, Sabrina Grimm, and when I do..." I narrow my eyes. "Just watch out."

I won't waste another single moment. I stride away from the bench, heading in what I hope is the direction of Ferryport Landing. About ten yards away, I turn around and look at the old woman. She is now stretched out on the bench, sleeping, just like I was. I smile. Thank you, old lady. I will find.


	5. The Chase

I walk happily through the many streets of this enormous city. At the moment, I feel perfectly safe. It will be some time before Mustardseed and Titania even come close to tracking me down. After all, I'm sure Titania would never, ever dirty her oh-so-royal-and-regal clothes by pursuing me through some hole in the ground. And they don't even know where the hole leads. For all they know, I could be on the other side of the world!

It starts to snow as I leave the city. I tilt back my head and walk with my eyes closed, mouth open, waiting for the perfect snowflake. I've been looking for it all my life. It will be huge, perfectly round, and will land directly on the very tip of my tongue. A couple of snowflakes have come close, but none have been absolutely perfect. Perhaps most people would think I'm crazy, waiting for a _snowflake_. But I'm an Everafter, and I have to live forever, and everything always melts into a great big soup of nothingness, and only the little moments ever stick in my memory. And catching the perfect snowflake has to be one of the most pleasant moments I can capture.

The air is pleasantly cool around me, but after a while, my bare feet start hurting. I think about flying, but I'm still in a busy part of the city, and some human would notice. It's not that I actually mind _them _noticing, but if someone started blathering on about a flying girl, Mustardseed and Titania could track me down with no trouble at all. So I walk, just walk, and try to ignore my feet. I hate the city. The streets are rough and the air reeks, but at least it's better than sitting in the Golden Egg all day. It was always so dark and gloomy there, underground. Here there's at least a sky, but I can't wait until I get out in the open. I want to see the stars. Oh, how I miss the forest the old Faerie use to be in!

A car suddenly roars by and throws up a wall of filthy water. I jump back as fast as I can, and my wings accidentally flit out for just a second. Holding my breath, I look around, but nobody has noticed. That's lucky, I suppose, but now I'm drenched and even dirtier. And to top it off, I now smell like the inside of an internal combustion engine. Why on earth do these humans keep inventing things like this? What is _wrong_ with them?

"Hey, pretty." The voice startles me out of my thoughts, and I look up. Some disgusting man is leaning against a wall, leering at me. He winks. "You look lost, little girl. You need a bath. Come 'round to my place?"

I may look like I'm 11 years old, but I have been alive for thousands of years. My mind is not as sweet and innocent as a "little girl's." I know what this man _really _wants. "Pervert," I say. "Stay away from me."

"Aaw, come on now, there's no need to be like that." He reaches out for me. "I don't bite."

"Stay _away_!"

"Look here--"

I kick him in the groin.

"Ooooh!" He doubles over, his face contorted in agony. I allow myself one quick, vengeful smirk, then turn and flounce away.

I walk undisturbed for perhaps five minutes, and then I hear running footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, it's him. But this time, he has friends with him. I run. Snowflakes zip into my face and I have to scrunch up my eyes. It's hard to see. I pay no attention to where I'm going; I just run away from the angry, shouting men behind me. I go as fast as I can, but I never could run around when I was in the Golden Egg, and my legs are weak. Already I'm tired, and I've barely gotten half a block. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me the men are gaining. Instinctively, I reach for my pocket, but all I find is the mirror the old lady gave me. My flute was taken away when I was thrown into prison. Should I fly? The footsteps behind me are so close now! There's no way I can outrun them!

My wings pop out, and I soar upwards.

Their shouts ring out behind me. Panting, I turn to face them in midair. Exhausted as I am, I can't help but laugh at the looks on their faces. I give them a cheery little wave, then turn and continue on. I don't care now if anyone spots me. Let them. I'm happy to just be flying, dipping and dodging between the fat white snowflakes.

I fly all day and don't get tired. By nightfall, I'm well out of the city. Maybe some people saw me, maybe they didn't. Oh well. I find a tiny spot of ground bordered by dead trees and land. This is where I'll spend the night. There's even a tiny ditch in the ground that will undoubtedly be filled with melted snow in the morning. Happily, I lie down and close my eyes.

I wake up to the sound of bushes rustling. I sit bolt upright and look around. I can't _see _anybody, but I know they're out there. Holding my breath, I crawl noiselessly over to a tree and peer around. No one. I slither a few more yards, and suddenly, a head of shaggy blond hair comes into view.

"Puck?" I whisper to myself in amazement. But then the boy turns, and with a feeling of disappointment, I realize it's not him. It's Mustardseed. He looks around carefully, then raises a flute to his lips and plays a few notes. Instantly, a cloud of pixies converges around him.

"Find her," he orders.

As soon as I hear that, I burst out from my hiding spot and tackle him. The pixies, having fulfilled their orders and found me, do nothing, leaving me free to kick and punch him relentlessly. He struggles, but either he's much, much weaker than I thought or he doesn't even try to fight back. Either way, I manage to get a firm hold on the flute and pull. He clenches his hand even tighter around it. I pull harder, and for a moment, it seems as though it might break. No! I can't let it do that! I claw at his face and bit down hard on his knuckles. With a cry, he lets go.

I stumble back, flute held tight in my hand. Mustardseed leaps up and lunges for it, but I shove it down the front of my dress. Mustardseed blanches. I smile triumphantly. Mustardseed lives by very strict morals--he would never, ever, not in a million years, reach down the front of my dress.

"_So_," I say. He just stands and glares. "You caught up with me, now did you? Where's the rest of your search party?" He still doesn't answer. "Oh, come on now. Don't make me punch you _again_."

"We split up."

"Smart, very smart. That way, one of you'd be more likely to find me, right? And if you did find me, you wouldn't have a problem capturing me, since you're so _very _big and strong, right? It's a great plan, really, Mustardseed, it is. Or it would be, if it had worked." I smile my sweetest smile. The look of resentment on his face is priceless. Oh, I _love _rubbing these things in! "So tell me, who else is out looking for me?"

"Titania and twelve others."

"My goodness. Fourteen people running around all over the place, looking just for me? I feel so honored." I turn to the cloud of hovering pixies. "Go to everybody else who is out looking for me and lead them in the wrong direction. I'm going--let me see--I'm going north, so lead them all south for as long as you can. Go." They flutter away, and I smile at Mustardseed. "So," I say again, because it's such an ominous word. "What'll I do with _you_?


	6. The Talk

In the end, I decide to keep Mustardseed alive. For now.

The thing is, there aren't any poisonous plants or shrubs around here at the moment, and I'd really, really like to kill him with poison. It's the best way, in my opinion. I admire the way all the different natural, innocent-seeming things can combine to form something more powerful than even an Everafter's life, and any other way just seems barbaric and uncouth. Cobweb was an exception. I had to get him out of the way quickly, before he could say a word condemning me, and the cannon was just _there, _begging to be used. But now I have all the time in the world, so I can wait until I've found _just_the right ingredients to dispose of Mustardseed.

I tell him this.

"You really think I will take any food from you, knowing that you want me dead?"

"I'll find something to slip it in. You need to eat, you need to drink. Speaking of which--" I go over to a puddle that formed from the night's snow and lean down over it.

"I'm sure that water's filled with all sorts of unpleasant bits of filth."

"Well, then, you better have water with you." Glowering, he pulls a tiny leather bottle out of his pocket. I take it from him and shake it. "How much?"

"It's magical. I'll never run dry."

"Pity. I was hoping to taunt you with the prospect of no water." I sigh dramatically. "Oh, well." I start taking huge, enormous gulps. This is the first time I've had enough to drink in days. I slurp it down, letting the cool liquid fill my parched and sticky mouth. Before long, I start to feel dizzy and sick, but that doesn't stop me drinking. When I'm finally done, I splash water over my face and arms. It isn't much of a bath, but it makes me feel just a bit better. Then, smiling, I tuck the bottle under my arm. "What else do you have with you?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, don't lie, Mustardseed."

"I told you, nothing. We were expecting to catch you quickly."

"Ha. You were expecting to _catch_ me."

"Yes we were, actually."

"I still think you have more with you." Before he can stop me, I reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a packet of crackers. I wave them in his face. "Nothing?"

"Practically nothing."

"You only say that because you haven't been starving away in a filthy hole in the ground for days!" I scream. "To me, this is a _feast_!"

I wolf down the crackers while he watches me calmly. "I was not aware that you were being treated so poorly. Had I known, I would have improved your conditions greatly. Even prisoners will not be made to suffer under my rule."

"_Your_ rule? Ha!" I laugh with my mouth full. "Whatever you may say, Puck is still king of Faerie, and I am his queen!"

"You are sadly misinformed." And then neither one of us say another word until I'm done eating.

After I finish each and every cracker crumb, I search his pockets for more. I find no more food, though, but I do discover a tiny compass. "Good," I say. "I'll take this. Ferryport Landing is that way, right?" I point.

"Oh yes, I'm really going to tell you."

"Come on." I wave my hand, and we set off.

I choose to walk. I'm ashamed of my poor running yesterday, and despite the stones and twigs digging into my soft feet, I force myself to stride onward and grow stronger. Mustardseed starts fluttering along beside me, but I order him to walk, too. I enjoy bending branches and letting them go to whip him in the face. He says nothing and doesn't even try to run away. Well, of course he doesn't. He knows that if he runs, I can call the pixies to catch him at once. But why does he have to be so annoyingly _quiet_? I'm doing my very best to annoy him--why does he have to take it so darn _stoically_?

"I cannot believe how incredibly weak you are," I say in an attempt to rile him. "Fighting you was like battling a fly."

"I'm not weak."

"You are."

"I am actually quite strong. I just--"

"Oh, yeah? Why was so easy to get you flute from you, then?"

"I don't hit girls."

I pause for a moment and give him a look of scorn.

"What?"

"You are so... _lame_!"

"I am not."

"You are."

"Ha. _Puck_ would never shy away from attacking anyone."

"Well, that's because he's Puck."

"Exactly."

We carry on, keeping away from big roads or anywhere else that we might be seen. To my annoyance, Mustardseed seems perfectly comfortable in his jacket and sneakers, while I totter along limping and shivering. I keep at it, though, forcing my body to become stronger. Soon, I tell myself, I won't be able to feel even the coldest cold, and the soles of my feet will be hard as rock.

"Moth?" Mustardseed asks after a while.

"Yes?"

"May I have some water, please?"

"No." I'm enjoying this.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like you, that's why. And because _I_ went without water for--how long was I locked up?"

"One and a half weeks."

"_One and a half weeks!?_"

"Approximately."

"Oh." This talk of the prison reminds me of another question I wanted to ask. "There was an old woman in there with me. She--"

"Who?"

"I don't know, some old lady. What was she in there for?"

"Moth, that prison was unused for a century before we put you in there. There were certainly no old ladies."

"What? But then--" If she hadn't been thrown in there, she must have come herself. Why would anyone willingly go there themselves? I remember her saying something about liking it there. But then she didn't stay. She left... she left as soon as she had told me how to get out. Did that mean she had come there just to help me? But who would want to help me? I don't know. There's someone out there, apparently, who _wants_ me to go and kill Sabrina Grimm. That thought is very comforting.

"But then what?"

"Nothing, Mustardseed. I am not obliged to tell you my every thought."

He says nothing, just leans down and starts untying his shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"You've been limping, Moth."

"You are _not_ giving me your shoes!"

"I am."

"No! I refuse to take them!"

"Oh, come on. I know your feet hurt."

"There is no reason for you to offer up your shoes for me."

"There is, actually. The law demands humane treatment of prisoners. That means that as much as I hate you, I have to make sure you can walk comfortably."

"You're _my_ prisoner. And I'm not taking your shoes." I refuse to accept anything from him. I have my pride!

"Come on, Moth. You need them."

"Will you stop being so _chivalrous_!?"

We continue on without another word. Night falls yet again, and I find another spot where we can sleep. As we lie down, I give Mustardseed my most vicious glare. "Run off anywhere," I tell him, "and I will kill you just like _that_, understand?"

Without waiting for a reply, I close my eyes.


	7. The Voice

When we wake up the next morning, the first thing Mustardseed notices is his that he's not wearing his shoes.

"I thought you didn't want them," he says, nodding at my feet.

"I didn't want to accept them. As gifts. Stealing them from you in the middle of the night is a perfectly honorable way to preserve my pride."

I take a long drink from the bottle, but then my stomach starts hurting. I haven't eaten anything since those crackers, and those weren't even very much. My stomach grumbles loudly and obnoxiously. Mustardseed smirks, and I glare back.

"Come," I tell him, and we start walking yet again. Nothing much happens that morning, other than me shooting a few insults at Mustardseed and him always replying politely. It should not be possible to be that polite, in my opinion. I check the compass what has to be every few steps, but it's not all that distracting. All the time gives me plenty of opportunity to think about how hungry I am, how much my stomach hurts, how much I would like to eat, and other things like that. It gets a bit annoying.

"I hate this," I announce after a while. "In the courts of the old Faerie, I slept on cloud-soft beds and sampled the very finest delicacies. Even in the Golden Egg I lived comfortably. How on earth did I ever end up in _this _state, sleeping on rocks and dead grass, eating nothing but _crackers _every few days? This is absolutely unacceptable! My feet have never been in more pain!"

"Neither have my ears. You have a very loud voice."

"Good! I'd hate to always be huddled away in corners not speaking, like _some_!"

"I never huddled in a corner."

"You never spoke, either!"

"I had nothing to say."

"See what I mean? How can you possibly 'not have anything to say?' What sort of things go through your head?"

"Many, many thoughts. Most of them aren't complaints." He gives me a pointed look.

"Hmmph!" And then, suddenly, a highway comes into view. It doesn't seem very busy, but still I give it a cautious look before I go any further. A small gas station and mini-mart are sitting next to it. I sigh. Much as I hate anything to do with humans, I need food and clothes. I will have to go in.

Mustardseed seems to read my thoughts. "Moth, you can't go in there."

"And whyever not?"

"You look like an escaped murderer who has been wandering around barefoot through the middle of nowhere for days."

And, of course, he's right. As usual. Fine. "_You _can go in there instead."

"No!"

"I need food."

"We have no money."

"Fairy gold." I scoop up some pebbles from the ground and curl my fingers around them. When I open my fist, a small fortune in dollar bills and quarters sits there. It's not really gold, but the name still sticks around from the times when money was made out of stuff that was actually _worth _something. All of it will turn back into stones before long, of course, but not before we're long gone. I hold it out. "Here. That's more than enough.

Mustardseed doesn't take it. "That's not honest, Moth."

"So? They're humans. They're used to dishonesty. Now, I'm hungry. Get in there and just buy some food, already."

"I won't do it!"

I pull out the flute and play a few notes. Immediately, the pixies gather around, and I make one or two bite his face. He glares at me, and takes the money.

"Fine." And with that, he turns and storms away.

I smile and put the flute away. Really, he's so _easy _to control.

While I'm waiting, I pull out the mirror the old woman gave me and examine my reflection. Mustardseed was right, I _do _look frightening. No one in their right mind would ever let me into a store looking the way I do right now. I need to get cleaned up as soon as possible.

_You want revenge._

I stiffen, and look around cautiously. No one's there. So why did I just hear a voice? Did I really hear it? I could have sworn I did--but was it just my thoughts? It couldn't be. I shove the mirror back in my pocket and stand. All common sense tells me that I just imagined it, but I can't shake the suspicion that I'm being watched...

The sudden crunching of footsteps behind me jolts me out of my thoughts. Panicked, I spin around and raise my hands, ready to attack whoever comes. When I see it's just Mustardseed, I sigh and relax. He's carrying two huge bags of potato chips. Annoyed, I snatch one from him.

"I haven't eaten for days, I send you to get food, and _this _is what you bring?"

"That was all they had."

I glare at him, open the bag, and start eating. Once the first chip is in my mouth, I forget all about being annoyed and stuff more and more in my mouth. This food may be inferior, but it's food, and my stomach keeps demanding more. Before long, my face and hands are encrusted with tiny crumbs and salt, but I don't stop to clean them off. I need to eat.

Mustardseed watches me with raised eyebrows. "How very ladylike."

I take another swallow and retort, "You are not eating all that neatly, either." But I slow down anyway.

Unfortunately, the chips make me start feeling rather queasy. I take a long drink of water, then eat some more, then drink more. I finish my bag before Mustardseed's even halfway done with his. Still hungry, I reach over and take his away. For a moment he looks as though he's going to argue, but then he seems to remember that I have no problem setting the pixies on him. Instead, he just asks, "May I please have some water?"

"No."

"I won't be able to keep going for long if I don't drink."

Well, when he puts it that way.... I toss him the water bottle. I can't have him collapsing from dehydration between here and Ferryport Landing. When he finishes, I take the bottle back and use it to clean my hands and face. He does the same.

"I have decided that I shall not kill you for the time being," I announce after a while.

His head jerks up, and he smiles--for the first time in days, I'm sure. "Why?" he whispers happily.

"I've decided I enjoy having a personal slave."

"Oh. Well, that is fortunate."

"For you, it certainly is. I warn you, though, that if you even _try _to run off, I will kill you without a thought." I wouldn't, but I can see that he believes me. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a folded peice of paper.

"I decided to get this as well. It's a map. I thought that since you're so determined to drag me all the way to Ferryport Landing, we might as well get there as fast as possible. And here." He tosses a dirty black object into my lap.

I recoil in horror. "What is that?"

"A hairbrush."

"You bought a hairbrush?"

"No. I found it by the side of the parking lot."

"Eew! Mustardseed, that is _disgusting_!"

"Sorry."

"Sorry? _Sorry_? There is absolutely no way I am touching that!" I fling it away from me. "I shall not use any piece of human trash!"

"Suit yourself."

He leans against a tree and watches me while I finish the chips and even lick out of the inside of the bag. Not once does he look away. Finally, I growl, "Fine," and pick up the hairbrush. Mustardseed laughs, and I glower at him. He's one of those annoying people who can _guilt _you into doing something. Before I brush my hair, though, I use a long stick to pull all the tufts of hair already caught in the brush. It is absolutely disgusting. I rinse the brush with water from the bottle, but even then, I'm slightly sickened to be using it. Still, I know that at the moment I need to do anything I can to look tidier. As I brush my hair, I pull out the mirror the old woman gave me and examine myself.

Mustardseed eyes it with incredulousness. "Of all the things you could possibly bring on your life-or-death escape from prison on a journey through the middle of nowhere, you choose a _mirror_?"

"It was given to me before I left by someone much more intelligent than you."

He shakes his head and mutters something.

It takes perhaps half an hour to de-tangle my hair, it's so messed up. Finally, I slip the mirror and the brush in my pocket, stand, and stretch. Following the map, we set off once again towards Ferryport Landing.


	8. The Dream

That night, neither I nor the pixies can find a sheltered spot. Mustardseed and I are forced to stop and rest not too far from the highway. It makes me nervous to be out in the open like this, but no alternative presents itself. We lie down some distance from each other, and I look up at the sky. The stars are really bright here, not like they were back in the city. That's just one more thing I miss about the old Faerie.

It takes me forever to fall asleep. It would be a perfect night, if only Puck were here. I can feel an empty ache inside me. Try as I might, I can't understand why he would just leave me--again and again and again. Part of me begs to give up, but I won't. I can't. I love him, and I will get him to love me in return.

I lie there, just thinking about his sparkling green eyes and his easy laugh. I miss him so much. Dreamily, still thinking of him, I close my eyes.

When I open them again, I'm back in Faerie, on my cloud-soft bed in my richly decorated room. I stand. I exit and wander down the hallway, soon finding myself in Titania's room. She motions for me to come to her, and I begin to arrange her hair, as I have done so many times before.

Suddenly, Mustardseed walks in, carrying a figure in his arms.

"Mustardseed, if you are looking for your father, he is not here," Titania says without even looking at him.

"Thank the heavens for miracles. Puck has returned."

The moment I hear Puck's name, I race over to him. He looks much like he did all those many years ago, but there's something, something different... it's no matter. I stroke his face tenderly. At last, at long last, he's back...

"Moth, find Cobweb--quickly!" Titania orders. "Tell him to bring his medicines!" I turn and race from the room, desperate to find Cobweb as soon as possible. Puck must be saved! I search and search, but nowhere do I find him. I panic. Where is he? I turn too many corners to count, race down so many hallways I don't even recognize. I never stop looking, I never stop running.

I'm not sprinting through the hallways of the Golden Egg anymore. I'm in the old palace of Faerie. The walls are upholstered with red velvet and rich tapestries, and even in my hurry, I can't help reaching out to rub my hand along them.

I crash through doorways, flinging them open and not bothering to close them behind me. Before long, I'm in Titania's royal bedroom once again. Cobweb leans over Puck, and Oberon yells at Titania. Without taking in even a single word, I know what he's saying. He won't let Puck stay. He'll kill him.

Once again, I'm racing through the halls of the palace, ending up almost immediately in the kitchen. I can hear Oberon's voice, several rooms away, a low and steady rumble. The kitchen is crowded, full of people bustling about to prepare the feast, but nobody looks at me. Nobody pays attention to Moth, the princess reduced to a handmaiden, the fiancée left behind when her intended left her for a human! I pull out a small leather sack of herbs from the old Faerie homeland, choose the ones I want to use, and hold them above the cup.

I hesitate. Do I really want to do this? Do I want to kill the man would be my father-in-law, who is responsible for my even being betrothed to Puck?

Yes. To protect Puck, I will do anything.

I drop the herbs into Oberon's exquisitely decorated goblet. He never drinks from anything else. Even while the rest of Faerie suffers, he drinks from his golden goblet. I lift the glass and swirl it a few times, then dodge aside just as Cobweb comes. Unseen, I follow the servant to Oberon's room. The king takes the goblet with nothing but a grunt of approval, and Cobweb leaves. I stay and watch.

Oberon takes a sip. Immediately, his face puffs up, his eyes bulge out. He collapses on the floor, sees me, reaches for me. I stand triumphantly just out of his grasp. "I win." My voice is a whisper.

He continues to crawl along the floor. I'm confused. Shouldn't the poison have worked by now? I back up against the wall, my fingers clinging desperately to a tapestry behind me. Oberon squints at me. "Moth..." His voice is halfway between a whisper and a growl. It sounds nothing like him at all. I scream. He keeps crawling forward, and I can do nothing. He lunges forward, grasps my ankle. His nails dig into my skin. Still screaming, I kick and struggle, trying to shake him off. He opens his mouth again, but makes no sound. Instead, a stream of red liquid flows out. It's the wine, the poison wine I gave him. It flows out of his mouth, his eyes, his nose, his ears. I'm too terrified to scream now.

I start bleeding where his nails dig into me. The blood mingles with the torrent of wine flooding around my feet. Soon the liquid rises to my ankles, then my knees. I can't see Oberon any more, but his nails still hold me to the spot, and the flood still rises. It's at my waist, my chest, my neck. It bubbles higher and higher, and I try to force sound out of my mouth, try to scream for help, but nothing comes. The wine and blood are at my chin now. In seconds, it will reach my mouth, and I will die too.

I tilt my head back, trying to keep my face out of it, but there's no point. Drops fly into my mouth, my nose, and I go under.

I can't breathe.

There's nothing but red swirling around me, everywhere. I try to take in a gulp of air, but there's nothing, nothing. There's not even a world outside of this unending redness. I flail my arms, but no matter how fast I swim, I don't end up anywhere. There's nothing.

A body looms up in front of me. Oberon? I turn and run, swim, do anything I can to get away. But every time I look back, he's still there. I move harder, faster. There's a long hallways up ahead, and I race down it, but it ends. The far wall is a mirror, framed in black. As I approach, my reflection gazes back at me, wild-eyed. I come closer, and suddenly the girl in the mirror reaches out and grabs me. I struggle, once again, to get away.

But the arms around me aren't my own anymore. They're Oberon's. Then suddenly, they belong to an old, short little man I don't recognize. I struggle, and the person holding me turns into the old woman in the prison cell. Then the woman from the park. Then Mustardseed.

I wriggle and thrash, and it's a moment before I realize that there's no more redness, no more mirrors. The cool night air flows across my face. I stop moving and sigh. Mustardseed releases his grip on my arms when he sees I'm fully awake and no longer flailing madly. I pant heavily, the memories of the dream still vivid in my mind.

Finally, Mustardseed breaks the silence. "Nightmare?" he asks gently.

Part of me wants to give him a really sarcastic answer, like "Obviously," but I just nod.

There's a long pause. Then-- "Tell me about it?"

I nod again, finally taking in the fact that I'm in his lap, leaning against his chest. Still, after a dream like that, I don't want to move anywhere. "I thought--" I break off. How do I describe what I just saw? Details are already trickling away, thank goodness, and I don't want to relive that horrible redness. So I just tell him the beginning of the dream. "I was remembering when--when Puck came back. How I needed him so much, so I--I killed Oberon."

"And that was a nightmare for you?"

"It turned scarier... later."

"Oh." But he doesn't ask for any more information. Well, why would he? I'm talking about how I killed his father--I'm sure he wants to know no more.

I'm still feeling jittery and scared. Nervous, I stand up and start pacing back and forth. Mustardseed watches me quietly. All sorts of thoughts tumble through my head, each distracting me from the rest. Suddenly, I fire a question at Mustardseed. "Have you ever been in love?"

"No."

I laugh darkly. "It's a nightmare."

I walk forward, think for a moment, and reach a decision. "Come on, Mustardseed." My wings pop out of my back. "I need to get to Ferryport Landing as fast as possible. We're flying."

A few seconds later, we're zipping off through the night.


	9. The Motel

I can't tell what time of night it is. I'm too nervous and jittery, still hyped up from the dream, to pay any attention. Beside me, Mustardseed is just a dark blur. I can see his body, but none of his face. I twist my hands around each other and bite my fingers. I have a horrible feeling, and I can't shake it off, no matter how hard I try. There's no sound but our wings beating the air and our clothes whipping around us. The silence presses in all around me, bringing back blurry images from my dream. I can't stand it.

"Do you think it meant something?" I say suddenly, because I just have to talk, say something right now.

"What?" A pause. "Do you mean the dream?"

"Yes. Don't dreams usually mean something?"

"I suppose..." He says no more.

We fly for the rest of the night and into the day. Occasionally one of us says something, but mostly we are silent. The dream fades as the day brightens, until I can't even remember it, but I'm still nervous. Mustardseed asks to stop and rest a couple times, but I refuse. We fly steadily on towards Ferryport Landing, never once touching the ground.

The day fades away and dusk comes, then night. I don't slow down. Once again, Mustardseed begs to rest.

"No."

"Please, Moth. We've been flying longer than anybody ever should-"

"_No_."

There's no argument. At first I think I've won, but after a while, a slow, rhythmic noise comes from his direction. I listen closer. It's snoring. Mustardseed has actually fallen asleep in midair.

If I weren't feeling so gloomy, I would probably laugh.

I reach out and shake his shoulder. With a snort, he jerks his head up, squinting around blearily. I sigh. He apparently can't travel as long or fast as I can. He's slowing me down, and I can't leave him behind. He would just go straight back to Faerie, organize another search party, and that would be the end of me. And there's nothing to kill him with.

We're still by the highway. I spot a tiny motel not far from us and motion Mustardseed towards it. I don't want to stop tonight-I don't want to stop moving until I'm all the way at Ferryport Landing-but I can't deny that the idea of a shower and a real bed is extremely attractive.

I march into the lobby, dragging the half-asleep Mustardseed with me, and slam a pile of Faerie gold onto the counter. The human worker looks up in surprise. "We'll take the two best rooms," I announce.

The human raises his eyebrows. "Where are your parents?"

"In Faerie."

"What?"

"It is no concern of yours, human."

He shakes his head. "This is ridiculous." He reaches for a phone. "Tell me your number, kids, and I'll get your parents to come pick you up. Heaven knows what you're up to, charging into hotels at this time of night, but I'll bet they won't be pleased."

I extend my wings. The human jumps as though startled, but then he rolls his eyes. "Nice costume. Get out of my hotel."

Smirking, I float upward a couple of inches, until I'm looking him in the eye. He gasps. Slowly, I take out the stolen flute and blow a few notes. A cloud of pixies fills the room. A few more notes, and they lift the man right off the ground and hold him to the wall.

I giggle. I don't believe I have ever seen anything more hilarious than the expression on this man's face.

"Find what we need," I order the pixies. They buzz around the room, opening drawers and digging through piles of paper until they find the two room keys. I admit I have them take a _bit_ longer than was necessary. The human's expression is priceless. He looks like an angry catfish.

As we leave the lobby, I glance in a mirror by the door. I look a fright-even worse than the last time I examined myself. Oh, I would _love_ to know _exactly_ what that human is thinking right now! I must terrify him! Snickering, I pull some twigs out of my hair and toss them at him. He blanches. Mustardseed rolls his eyes-I suppose he wasn't as asleep as I thought-and pulls me away from the mirror. "Come on, you look fine," he mutters as he drags me out the door.

"I'm covered from head to toe in five layers of dirt, my dress is a tangle of rags held together by a few threads, and there is a _forest_ of sticks in my hair. Yes, Mustardseed, I do indeed look _fine_."

"Moth, you're the kind of person who looks beautiful no matter _what_ you're wearing."

"I thought you hated me!"

"I do. You're a crazy, evil, scary, psychotic serial killer. You're just a _beautiful_ crazy, evil, scary, psychotic serial killer."

I look at him. He's stumbling along with his eyes half-closed. He's just barely conscious. His mind must be completely off guard right now, because there is no way he would ever, ever say this while he's fully awake.

We reach the doors to our rooms, which sit side-by-side. Mustardseed's so out of it, I even have to unlock and open his door for him. For a moment I hesitate. "How can I be sure you won't run off and escape in the middle of the night?"

"I promise."

There's no way I can argue. After all, Mustardseed has never, ever lied, not in the _thousands_ of years I've known him. So I shove him into the room, close the door, and enter my own.

I'm not sleepy at all. I take a long, much appreciated shower, enjoying the feel of so much dirt _finally_ leaving my skin. The water starts to run cold after an hour or so-stupid, inefficient human invention-so I get out and use it to clean my dress.

A few thousand years ago, I was the most respected princess of Faerie. A few centuries ago, I was the most beloved handmaiden of Queen Titania. A few years ago, I was the rejected fiancée of a former prince; a few weeks ago, I was a prisoner in a dark, freezing cell; a few days ago, I was traveling through the middle of nowhere; and now, I squat in a bathtub in a human building, trying desperately to scrub clean a ragged, filthy, flimsy dress. It makes me wonder just how much farther I can fall.

I use up every bit of soap I can find and rub the dress under water even more. When it's finally clean, I breathe fire at it until it dries, then slip it on and climb into bed. It's just a bit past midnight.

_You want revenge._

I sit up and look around, but there's nothing to be seen. Just blank, unending whiteness. Cautiously, I stand. What am I standing on? I can't even tell. It's just white. "Hello?" I call. No answer. Did I just imagine that voice-again?

Impossible.

I walk. I don't choose to go in any particular direction, I just wander forward. I want to find that voice, but since I've no idea where to start looking, I'll meander about until I find it. I have forever, after all.

"Hello?" I call again.

No answer.

"Is anybody even there?"

Nothing.

Suddenly, I start to panic. I can't remember how long I've been walking. I'm sure it's been days, weeks. I hike up my skirts and start to run, my head twisting desperately back and forth. Where am I? I have no idea. There's nothing, absolutely nothing, and I'm completely alone. There isn't a single other person in the world, there isn't even a world, there's just this eternal whiteness, and I'm running and sprinting and my footfalls echo on forever and there's no way I can run fast enough and now I'm falling and falling through nothing and I'll never, ever stop, I'll never, ever hit the bottom-

_Thump!_

The jolt goes through my entire body and my eyes fly open in shock. _This is it_, I think, _I'm dead_. But I'm not. I look around and realize that I'm tangled up in blankets, on the floor. I've just fallen off the bed, and now, someone's pounding on the door.


	10. The Train

The pounding on the door grows louder and more urgent.

"Moth! Are you all right? Moth?"

I sit up, rubbing my head, and look blearily at the source of the noise. With each new bang, my head throbs in pain. "Stop it," I shout-shisper, but Mustardseed doesn't hear. He goes on knocking desperately.

"Stop it!" I call just a litle bit louder. The banging ceases immediately. Too tired to move from my spot, I pull out the flute and have the pixies unlock and open the door. I drag myself back onto the bed as Mustardseed comes in.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently. I groan and roll my eyes. Idiot. Do I _look_ okay? I can't see myself, but I know my hair is flying in all directions, my dress is twisted up, and my skin is sweaty. Wordlessly, Mustardseed comes over and sits next to me.

"I could hear you kicking and screaming. It woke me up, and I bet the rest of the motel heard, too." When I don't answer, Mustardseed asks, "Was it another nightmare?"

I nod and whimper, "This one was worse."

"Why?"

"I was alone, all alone." I look up at his face. "Why am I alone, Mustardseed? Why am I the only one who sees things my way? Why isn't there anybody on my side?"

"I think it may be because you have either killed, threatened to kill, or otherwise severely hurt everyone who used to be on your side." Curse Mustardseed and his unending honestly.

"I did, but I always had a reason. Always." I'm shocked to hear that my voice is almost pleading. Me? Pleading? But I feel so terrified and alone right now, and I'm desperate for someone to understand me. I can feel a great big emptiness inside me, and I know that it can only be filled by Puck. I want Puck with me now. More than I have ever wanted anything else, I want Puck.

I gaze distractedly around the room, while Mustardseed sits awkwardly next to me. I can tell he wants to say something, but he can't seem to find the courage. I don't care. I don't care about anything right now. Nothing matters anymore.

We hear set of footsteps suddenly running across the parking lot outside. "She had wings, I tell you, she did!" screams a dim voice. It does not spark a single bit of interest in me, but Mustardseed looks up, listening to the rest of the conversation. It's something about wings, fairies, beer, and being fired.

"My goodness , Moth," he says. "What did you _do _to get us in here?"

"You don't remember?"

"I don't remember anything from last night."

Interesting. "That's too bad for you. I don't care to tell you," I say in a dull voice. Last night's dream got me jumpy and nervous, but this one just made me feel depressed. "We must leave." I try to stretch out my wings and feel a sharp pain in my shoulders. Apparently I pulled all those muscles flying yesterday. My legs are sore, too.

Mustardseed sighs and pulls out the map. "Look. We are here." He points at something. I don't look. "There's a train station not far away. We can catch a train to Cold Spring, the town next to Ferryport Landing. We can be there today!"

"Whatever," I mutter. And a few minutes later, we're at the station.

We pay for our tickets with Faerie gold, and when the train we want comes, I board and slide into a window seat with a little table in front of it. Mustardseed follows, sitting across from me. I watch the scenery flicker past and try not to let my motion sickness or depression show. Soon I feel my eyelids beginning to droop.

I jerk myself awake and look at Mustardseed. "Please don't let me fall asleep," I beg. I know he knows it's because of the nightmares. He doesn't have to ask. He just nods. I go back to watching the window.

Brown brown brown brownbrownbrown... it all flickers by. I watch it sleepily, and without me realizing it, I start to doze off again. I'm just slipping into a comforting blackness when I feel a hand shaking me awake.

"You fool!" I scream at Mustardseed.

"I'm sorry! You instructed me to keep you awake!"

"I wasn't dreaming _that_ time, nitwit!"

"How was I to know?" He shrinks back from my scowl. I glare even harder. "Umm... I must... check on something up front." He's fooling no one. He can see how angry I am, and he wants to get away. But the rage is gone as quickly as it came, and I sigh wearily.

"You will come straight back to me, correct?"

"Yes, Moth." I watch him stand and walk away, then gaze idly out the window. Various shades of brown race by. Suddenly, I see the dim reflection of a woman behind me. I would recognize it anywhere. I spin around in my seat and glare at her.

"Excuse me, may I sit here?" Titania asks, obviously trying to keep up appearances for the sake of the human around us. I don't concern myself with such trifles. I whip out my stolen flute, but Titania's just as fast; she has hers out as soon as I do. We both raise our flutes to our lips at the exact same time, then stop, staring each other dead in the eyes. Titania speaks, her lips barely moving. "I suggest... that we both... slowly... set our flutes down in front of us."

I try to think of a way out, but what can I do? Without breaking eye contact, I slowly, oh so slowly, lower the flute. She does the same. It takes some time, but finally we both put our flutes in the very center of the table. We're still cautious of each other, so it's a couple of seconds before we move out hands away, millimeter by millimeter.

I lean forward. "I have no problem killing you, Titania.

"I did not come here to die."

"And yet you will."

"Moth, I am not your enemy." I snort. "I'm not. In fact--" She leans closer. "I wish you the best of luck. I never liked that Grimm girl anyway. Puck deserves better. He deserves you."

"He most certainly does," I agree. "Now tell me exactly how you tracked me down, so that I may avoid all further mistakes."

"Oh, Moth," Titania sighs. "I've known you since you were a child, and I understand you. It wasn't hard to guess you would go to Ferryport, no matter what the pixies said. I made sure all the other searchers went south, though. I am not here to arrest you."

"Why are you here, then?"

"Because..." She takes a breath. "I want Mustardseed. You've already chased one of my sons back inside the barrier. I won't let you drag the other with you. Please, you've caused me enough grief already. Just let me have my darling son back."

"Not a chance," I growl. "Do you truly think that I would be so stupid? I know perfectly well that if I let Mustardseed back, I will find a search party on my tail within a day. He knows where I am and where I'm going. He's staying with me."

"He would do no such thing!"

"And why not?"

"That's a stupid question. Because he's been in love with you for centuries. Now, Moth--" I'm still watching her eyes. Just for a second, they dart over my shoulder, then snap back to my face. Just a fraction of a second, but that's all I need. In one motion, I snatch up both flutes, twist myself out of the seat, leap across the aisle, get behind Mustardseed, and wrap my left arm tightly around his neck. He gasps and claws at my arm, but I've got a tight grip on him, and the more he struggles, the less he can breathe.

Titania is risen halfway out of her seat, and frozen mid-reach. She looks panicked. Random humans lean into the aisle, gaping. They don't matter.

Nobody moves.

"We'll be reaching Cold Spring in couple of minutes, folks," says the voice on the intercom, shattering that moment of stillness.

I look Titania in the eye. "Come with me." When the train pulls in at the station, I lead her off. We wait a while there until a train comes in the opposite direction. I order her on, then instruct a cloud of pixies to follow and make sure she doesn't come back.

And then, finally, I release my grip on Mustardseed's neck.

He gasps and coughs, sucking in great lungfuls of air, but I pay no attention. Again, I am excited.

I'm almost at Ferryport Landing.

I'm almost with Puck.


	11. The Kiss

My eyelids still droop, but my legs are no longer tired. My wing muscles, though, still scream in agony every time I move them, so Mustardseed and I walk across the town. We follow the map and compass and, by noon, are well out of Cold Spring and traveling parallel to some tiny street through a steadily thickening evergreen forest. I study the map very carefully, trying to guess where the barrier might be. It would be horrible if I stumbled inside it without meaning to. I don't want to actually go inside Ferryport Landing. I would be stuck forever with Sabrina Grimm, and that is the last thing I want. No, I plan to find a way to talk to Puck at the edge of the barrier, find a way to make him see that I'm all he needs. Then the two of us will find a way to get him out—after all, the Grimms did it—and we will return to New York and rule our kingdom.

I tell Mustardseed all this and he nods as if he doesn't care. "What will you do with me?" is all he asks.

"With you? Well, I've entertained thoughts of killing you after all. Maybe that would stop Titania's whining. But I rather like the idea of keeping you as a slave to kick around and laugh at. We shall see what Puck has to say."

"Puck is my brother. He would never, ever keep me as a slave."

"We shall see," I say smugly. "I know I can get Puck to understand everything, if I can just talk to him. When he hears how annoyingly courteous you have been on this trip, I shall—look at that tree!"

Most of the trees here are evergreens, but here and there are few leafless deciduous, probably planted by humans who just couldn't leave nature alone. This tree, though brown and dead-looking, stands straight, tall, and strong. Thick branches jut out in all directions. I get an urge to rush over and climb it, so I do.

I grasp the lowest branches and pull myself upwards, digging my bare feet into the crumbling bark. Immediately, I slip and fall. It's been so many years since I have climbed. I wonder if I can even remember how to do it. I grit my teeth and try again, and this time I manage to hoist myself up on the lowest branch.

Mustardseed stands by the trunk and looks up at me. "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Climbing. Why don't you just fly to the top of the tree?"

"Because my wings hurt, fool. And because it feels far more natural to do this. It lets me… connect… with the tree." I wait for him to laugh, but he doesn't. "You come climb, too," I suggest, sure that he's too much of a wuss to do it. Surprisingly, though, he follows me. Self-consciously, I pull my dress tighter around my legs. "Don't you dare look up my skirt."

He looks scandalized. "Moth! I would never!"

I sneer and continue climbing. The rough bark continues scratching at me, but I don't care. That's what nature does, after all. I climb and climb, and before I know it, I'm at the very top branch. It looks too weak to hold my weight, but I ease myself onto it, silently daring it to collapse. It doesn't. A moment later, Mustardseed pulls himself up and, panting heavily, sits next to me.

The moment is magical. For a long time, we sit silently and look out across the forest. The mingling shades of green take my breath away. This is, I think to myself, a moment. A moment that I will remember for thousands and thousands of years. A moment that will stand out in the great soup of an Everafter's life. Years from now, when Puck and I are happily married and successful rulers, I will look back on this moment and try to relive it, but nothing can ever beat experiencing it firsthand. The sun falls lower in the sky, and still the two of us don't say anything. _Wouldn't it be nice to have a dress like that_, I wonder idly. To be able to envelop myself in those shifting colors of green and brown and sunset pink… that would be a dream come true.

Finally, Mustardseed breaks the silence. "You know, this tree reminds me of you," he says in a soft voice.

"How so?" I don't want to speak too loud. It might disturb the beauty of the scene.

"It looks dirty and strange from the outside, but it's so much stronger than it seems. Just like you. You look short and tiny and frail, but you are so strong…" Then he seems to understand the first thing he said. "No! I don't mean you're dirty and strange, please, don't think that, that's really not what I meant…"

"Yes, I know that, Mustardseed. I know that you are not stupid enough to insult me when you know perfectly well that I have no problem whatsoever killing you." He stutters his way into silence, and I smile. He really is so very easy to control. A simple death threat will shut him up.

Or maybe it wasn't the death threat that makes him so compliant. I think back to what Titania said just before I kicked her off the train. Is Mustardseed really in love with me? Or was he, before I killed Oberon? Impossible. He'd told me himself that he'd never been in love. And Mustardseed doesn't lie. That would be as improbable as snow falling in August. But then why would Titania say he was? Thinking about it makes me feel awkward, especially with him sitting next to me. I groan inwardly. He has completely spoiled this moment of my life.

Still, I have to find out. Without looking at him, I ask, "Why _haven't_ you ever been in love, Mustardseed?"

He seems shocked by my question, but eventually he answers, "It is a pointless waste of time. How often in one's life could a person ever find someone they love who truly loves them in return? _You_ should know better than anyone."

"Puck does love me!"

"You can only fool yourself for so long, Moth. What do you even see in my brother?"

That question brings me up short. Why _do_ I love Puck? I have heard people whisper that I only want the crown of Faerie, but it is not so. I want Puck. Why? He's good-looking, certainly, but I'm not that shallow. He's never courteous or refined, ever. So why do I love him? Finally, I say, "I don't think anybody ever knows why they love a person. Love is love, and it is completely random. Nobody can ever figure it out, so I won't even try."

After a while, he nods. "I agree. You can never tell yourself exactly why you love someone."

He says it with such conviction, I know Titania was right. He speaks in a way that can only come from experience. He loved me, and I know he loves me still. And he never told me because he knows my heart belongs to Puck.

I am not a cruel person. Much as I hate him, I cannot let him suffer. And it would break his heart, I know, to see me married to Puck. I will not put him through that.

"Come," I tell him, as I have for many days. We climb down from the tree in silence, me thinking all the while. When we reach the bottom, I turn to him. He says nothing, just looks back at me with sad blue eyes. I open my mouth, trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes out. For once I am lost for words. What can I say in preparation for what I am about to do?

Nothing, I decide. There's nothing I can say. So, wordlessly, I lean forward and kiss him.

That was the last thing he was expecting. He kisses me back nervously, as if he can't believe what's happening. Of course he can't. After days of chasing Puck, I'm kissing Mustardseed. Poor boy, he must think it's a dream come true.

Finally, I pull myself away from him. He still stands there, as if in shock, eyes closed. His lips twitch. "What," he says slowly, "was that fo—ahh!"

And I bring the rock crashing into the side of his head.


	12. The Barrier

Mustardseed crumples to the ground, blood spurting out of his head. I let go of the rock and reel back, clutching my stomach with one hand and covering my mouth with the other. I have always been nauseated at the sight of blood, and there's so much of it here. I can't tell if he's dead or not, but I won't look closer. The blood flows, and I'm reminded of my nightmare. Am I to drown in this blood, too? I can't stand it anymore! I turn and run.

Soon, though, I have to slow, sit on a large rock, and take deep breaths of the cool evening air. _I must wait for nightfall_, I think, pushing what I just did out of my mind. _Then I can send the pixies to find Puck._

But why wait? I pull out one of the flutes and call for pixies in Ferryport Landing. I see a glow and walk towards it. A small cloud of pixies hovers there, unable to come closer. I shudder. I was so close to the barrier. A few more steps and I could have been trapped. I stop a few feet away and tell them, "Go find Puck. Tell him to meet me here once night falls. But don't—don't tell him it's me. He won't come if he knows it's me."

Then I wait.

It doesn't take long for night to come completely, and soon I hear footsteps coming my way. It's him! I clutch at my arms in excitement, knowing I'm close, so close. I can see the glow from the pixies as they bob steadily nearer, leading him on. And then, finally, he comes into view, and I leap up. "Puck!" I call.

He starts in surprise. "Moth?"

"Puck! My love!" I rush as close as I can, just inches away from him. He looks almost the same as he always has, green hoodie, baggy jeans, but there's something else, too, something I can't place. What is it? I look him up and down, and finally it hits me. "You're—you're older!" Immediately I feel myself grow, as I always have, to the same age as him. "Oh, what has she _done_ to you?"

"Who?"

"Sabrina Grimm! She bewitched you or something, I don't know, you just aren't thinking straight, you…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says defiantly. I sigh. I have always been able to tell when he is lying.

"What do you see in her, Puck?"

"She's a slimy toad-faced monkey. I sure don't see anything in her!"

"And yet you followed her back inside the barrier!"

"To get away from _you_!"

"What?" I gasp. "What do you mean? Have I not always been kind to you?"

"Excuse me? You murdered my father!"

"I did it out of _love_, Puck! I did it for us!"

"'Us' meaning 'you,' right?"

"Puck, I love you!"

"No duh."

What went wrong? I imagined this moment so many times as I was coming here. In my mind, it was always perfect. I always won him back. But I suppose it was foolish to try to predict this because, after all, he's Puck. He's unpredictable, and that's just one of the things I've always loved about him.

But I can't give up. "Puck, please," I beg. "Just listen to me! We are meant for each other; why can't you see that? We could rule forever and ever, and be so happy! We could—oh, Puck, we could rule the world, just you and me! _Why_ do you hate me so much?"

He responds with a light, carefree smile. "Mostly because you're a freak with a face like a crunched-up snail shell left under a moldy log for two months in the damp during summer."

"_How dare you?_" I roar, and without thinking, slap his face.

For just a fraction of a second, that feels like the best thing I have ever done. I feel a strange satisfaction from feeling my hand hitting him so hard, knocking that smile off his face and those insults out of his mouth. Just a fraction of a second, though, and then I realize that my arm is now stuck in the barrier.

Puck goes spinning away when I hit him, but he soon rights himself, looks at me, and laughs. I yank back, but my arm just won't budge an inch from the forearm down. My wings pop out and I try to fly backwards, to no avail. My arm is stuck in Ferryport Landing.

Puck sticks his hands in his pockets and strolls casually over to where I continue to struggle. "You know," he remarks, "this has to be the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life."

"You're right," says a new voice. "She looks like a dying cockroach."

Puck spins around in shock, and we both search for the source of the voice. Somebody steps out from behind some bushes, and I growl when I see who it is.

"Grimm!" Puck exclaims. "What are you doing here?"

"You tell me first. Why are you talking to Moth?"

"I have no idea." They both look at me.

"You fool!" I spit at Sabrina. "You think you can just come here and laugh at me? You think you're so much better, you filthy human? You will _die_, I promise you that!" I throw my head back and laugh. "Watch what you eat from now on! You never know what I may slip into it!"

"Puck, can I punch her?"

"Sure, be my guest."

She steps forward and walks in a circle around me, a gloating smile on her face. I hold eye contact with her, glaring. She walks behind me, and I know she's showing off. _Look, I can leave the barrier and you can't, ha, ha! _Filthy human!

She winds back her fist and prepares to throw a punch. "Just so you know, I've wanted to do this for ages," she tells me. I twist out of the way just as she moves her arm forward, relieved to discover that I can still move sideways, if not back.

"Aw, man," she says when she misses. She prepares to try again, but Puck interrupts.

"Grimm, you should go home now."

She turns to him. "Why?"

"I can take care of Moth by myself."

"Oh, right. You've got to _take care of her_. Sorry to interrupt your little moonlit meeting here."

"What?"

"Don't mind me, I'll just leave now. Next time I see you sneaking out of the house, I'll know where you're going. I won't follow. You can have clandestine meetings with as many old fiancées as you want. See if I care."

But she does care. Maybe Puck can't tell, but I can. And I can see that he cares, too. He watches her walk away with his brow wrinkled in confusion. He doesn't understand what she meant by that, but he does know she's upset, and that upsets him. And knowing that makes me angrier than I've ever been before.

With a scream, I fly forward and tackle him. He and Sabrina both cry out in shock. I grab him round the neck and choke him; I pull back my right hand and punch his face again and again and again. His nose starts bleeding, and I keep on hitting him, determined that he feel the pain I do.

Suddenly, I feel hands on my back, and Sabrina Grimm pulls me off him. I twist and struggle violently, still calling curses at Puck. "What? Can't even fight your own battles any more?" I half laugh, half scream. "Got to be rescued by a _human_, do you?" Sabrina kicks me, and I kick back. Puck scrambles away, pulls out his flute, and calls up a cloud of pixies.

It takes many, many of them to hold me, I'm fighting so hard, but eventually they get me up against a tree. Sabrina rushes over to Puck and helps him up. He takes one look at me, but doesn't say anything. Together, the two of them limp away. As they're leaving, I can still hear them talking:

"How did _she_ get out of Faerie?"

"No idea. How are we gonna explain this to the old lady? Why d'you follow me out, anyways?"

"I saw you leaving and thought you were preparing another booby trap for me to fall into."

"I was planning to. What a waste of a night."

I listen to their footsteps die away, all energy drained out of me, and wonder if I should give up. No! Never!

I may not be able to win Puck's heart, but I can certainly make Sabrina Grimm pay.


	13. The Dinosaur

The night wears on. Eventually, the pixies seem to get bored, and one by one, they float away. By the time morning comes, they have all left and I lie on the ground. Other than that, I haven't moved an inch. I feel my eyes flutter shut, and there's a moment when I think, _no, please, no more nightmares..._. But it feels like someone else doing the thinking, and in my head, I argue back. _What's the point? Let me sleep, just let me sleep..._.

I heave a deep sigh.

A sudden burst of wind wakes me up from a dreamless slumber. I push myself up, eyes gummed together, sticks and dirt caught in my hair and pressed into my face. It hurts to open my eyes more than a crack. I rub and rub at them, rinsing them off with water from the little bottle.

The wind still blows.

I can't bring myself to fully wake up, but at least my eyes are now open. The weather seems to be reflecting what I'm feeling. Dark, thick clouds roil above my head, cutting off most of the mid-morning light. Wind whips my ragged hair and tattered dress around my body. Dirt flies everywhere. I stand with my back to it, squinting.

The weather was clear last night. How could a storm have built up so quickly?

There's a thump, and the ground trembles.

I look around wildly for the source of the noise. It comes again, and again everything shakes. The thumps get louder and nearer, and the ground shakes so hard I fall down flat. There's a rhythm to it all. It sounds like... footsteps.

The trees part.

I stare up into an enormous reptilian face. The dinosaur turns its head this way and that, as if it doesn't quite know what to make of me. Suddenly, it opens its mouth, revealing two rows of serrated teeth, and roars. The sound reverberates in the air around me, rattling my skull. I squeeze my eyes shut and gag at the horrible smell of its breath. Is this it? Am I going to die? No! This has to be a dream, another nightmare! And as soon as I think that, I know for certain that it isn't.

The dinosaur stomps forward and circles around me, eyeing me hungrily. I crouch and clutch at my arms, waiting for death. I can only hope that it will be quick.

"What the heck?"

I jerk my head up at the sound of the voice. The movement causes the t-rex to roar and lunge forward. A man jumps out of nowhere and slashes at the beast with a knife, then darts away. With another roar, the dinosaur turns to chase him.

I scramble away. Now that death is no longer imminent, I can pause to think. _Idiot. Does he really think he can outrun a dinosaur?_But the man continues to leap and stab, driving the t-rex into a frenzy. I quickly pull out one of the flutes, knowing this will take some time.

The first pixies sting at the dinosaur's eyes. It doesn't take much notice at first, but I call more and more, and it finally shakes it head and snaps at the little floating lights. They don't go away, though, and the dinosaur bellows and tries to spin in circles to catch them all. It swallows some, but I keep calling in more and more.

My fingers fly across the little holes on the flute, pulling in clouds of living light. I call pixies even from outside the barrier. Every single one I can reach out to is now here, in this clearing. The dinosaur is surrounded by hundreds of pixies now, and for a moment I know that I can finish this quickly.

And then, of course, the man with the dagger ruins it all.

He sees that the t-rex is confused and almost subdued, and seizes the opportunity to run up with his dagger again. He slashes at its thick legs, and blood gushes from the wound. The dinosaur forgets about the pixies and leans down, roaring at the man. The pixies no longer hold its interest, and though I have no problem with it eating the man, I know that I will be next.

And I refuse to die while Sabrina Grimm still lives.

My lips are dry from blowing so much and I'm running out of air, but I play louder and harder. At first I think I can't do much more. Surely there can't be any pixies that haven't heard my music! But then a faint rustling comes from behind me. I can barely hear it over the pained roars of the furious dinosaur, but it grows louder and louder.

And suddenly, a tidal wave of pixies bursts out of the woods behind me. They zip around the roaring beast, bite into its arms and legs, and still it completely.

I hadn't known there were that many pixies in the world.

The man leans over, panting. He takes several deep, gulping breaths, then looks at me. He pulls out the dagger, and for a moment I panic, but then he turns and walks toward the t-rex.

"No!" I cry.

He looks at me incredulously. "What?"

But I'm thinking. Even though it's held back by my pixies, I can see that it's a strong, powerful beast. "I could use such an animal," I say out loud.

"Excuse me? You think that a little pipsqueak like _you_ can control this?" He sheaths his dagger. "Fine. Feel free to try. How old are you, anyway? Ten?"

"Four thousand. Physically, I am eleven."

"OK, then." He looks at the t-rex. "Good luck."

I watch him reach in a pocket and pull out a cell phone. He dials a number and puts it to his ear. Apparently, someone picks up almost immediately, for he starts talking. "Yeah, it's me. Look, I tracked down that call like you told me to. Turns out they were serious. Yep. Yep. No, I didn't kill it. I dunno, some girl wouldn't let me."

Even from yards away, I can hear the voice on the other end: "WELL THEN, _OFF WITH HER HEAD_, NOTTINGHAM!"

The man cringes. "Look, I'm sorry. She just fought down a t-rex, for cryin' out loud! I'm not gonna argue with her! No. No. Nope. Uh-uh. I never liked that poodle anyways. _Never_. You know what? _You_ talk to her."

He shoves the phone against my ear. Immediately, my eardrum almost shatters from the voice screaming at me. "Who are you and how dare you disobey me?"

"My name is Moth. I obey no one."

"Moth? Moth, you said?" There's some sort of muttering in the background, and I vaguely hear, "Well, go check with him, all right?" More muttering, and then whoever's on the phone talks to me again. "Moth! It's you! We've been waiting!"

"You have? For what?"

"For you!"

I'm confused. Who in here knew that I was coming? "Why were you waiting for me?"

"I'll explain it all when you get here. Give the phone back to Nottingham."

"What? Get where? Hello?" But then the man snatches the phone from me and holds it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I heard. What? Now? But... OK, fine! Whatever you say!"

He hangs up and puts the phone away, muttering, before scowling at me.

"Guess what? You're coming with me. Shut up and don't even start whining. I'm not too thrilled with it either."


	14. The Mayor

The sky is clear. The storm passed just as quickly as it came.

"We've been getting a lot of that lately," the man—Nottingham—says when I question him about it. "Not sure why. And don't ask where the dino came from, either, cause I sure wish I knew."

"I'm keeping the dinosaur."

"Oh, no you're not! That thing is _not_ coming with us!"

"Would you like to argue about this?" Behind me, the t-rex roars. Nottingham looks up at it. His eye twitches.

"Fine." He spins around and starts plowing through the forest. I follow, and the pixies drag the t-rex along behind me. It crashes through the undergrowth, making an unbelievable amount of noise. Still, I can almost hear the man muttering something under his breath. "Fine. Let the oh-so-mighty Heart deal with it, then. I'm sick of this. Charging off..."

He leads me out of the woods and onto a street. I look around and see a small town, nothing like the bustling New York. There's a pale dusting of frost everywhere. The whole world seems to glitter, but the scene holds no beauty for me. I am trapped inside the barrier. What beauty is there?

And yet, there must be a way out. How else could they have brought Puck to New York? Whatever this is, I must find it. I must—

Nottingham interrupts my thoughts. "There." He points. "That's where we're going."

I follow his gaze and see a large, beautiful white mansion surrounded with green lawns. It's very grand, for a house. The palaces of old Faerie were much nicer. On the other hand, the mansion seems much better than the rooms in the Golden Egg. It will be suitable for the time being.

It's not far. As the three of us—Nottingham, the t-rex, and I—get closer, I can see people marching around the perimeter of the grounds. People? They seem rather flat... _They're playing cards_, I suddenly realize. _I'm going to be staying in a place guarded by bits of paper. Isn't that nice?_

Nottingham leads me to a back entrance. The guards take no notice of him. Nottingham goes to open the door, then pauses and glares at the beast behind me. "That is staying outside," he announces.

"No it isn't."

"I cannot allow that inside."

"You—"

"IS SHE HERE YET? NOTTINGHAM, BRING HER IN, OR IT WILL BE OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

He blanches and waves me through the door.

Inside, everything gleams. The walls, the floor, everything is white. A staircase stretches grandly away to upper floors. Servants, cards like the ones I saw outside, bustle past on various errands.

A short, squat woman walks into the room. Looking at her, I can barely repress a shudder. Her face is powered white and caked with lipstick and eyeshadow. Her floor-length red dress sports frills and lace and is covered in a gaudy pattern of hearts. Worst of all is the fact that the expression on her ugly face is one of welcoming. Her mouth is clenched in a smile that seems to be horribly painful. Something tells me this woman does not smile often.

"Darling!" she coos. "Moth! We've been waiting so long!" She rushes forward.

I step back. "Do not touch me, you ugly freak. You disgust me."

A look of anger flits across her face, and then she's smiling again. Interesting. She does not smile out of kindness, I'm sure. She smiles because she's been told to.

"Come, child," she says in a sticky-sweet voice. "I need to talk to you—WHAT IS THAT THING?"

"That would be my pet," I tell her without bothering to look. "I would advise you not to upset him."

"OFF WITH ITS HEAD!"

"I find your fear quite fascinating. Incidentally, if you kill it, you will find yourself dying a slow and painful death."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Nottingham shrugging and mouthing something like, _See?_

The short woman gulps and tries to calm down. She does a fairly good job, in my opinion, though she's obviously still scared. "Nottingham?"

"Oh, no. No. Whatever it is, I refuse to do it. I don't wanna get eaten today, and—"

"NOTTINGHAM! Take this... dinosaur... outside and find a place for it. Feed it, too. Feed it enough, or I just might feed it your head!"

The man grumbles and heads outside. I hear him yelling at some guards. The woman watches him go with a strange expression on her face; then she seems to shake it off and turns to me.

"Shall we?"

Well, what's the point in refusing? I follow her, and she starts talking.

"My name," she tells me, "is Heart."

"I could not possibly care less."

"I am the mayor of Ferryport Landing."

"Bravo. That is a major accomplishment."

She grinds her teeth and continues, "We are all trapped here. _ I know_ you know, you don't have to tell me. But I also know you're not happy about it at all. Neither am I. Neither is the Master."

She pronounces it so I can hear the capital _M_. "Who is the Master?"

She gives me a look, eyebrows raised. "That's not the kind of information I just give away. You see, we have to learn to trust you."

"Who's 'we?'"

She smiles a thin, hard smile. "The Scarlet Hand."

The way she says it, I can tell it's something important. We round a corner into another room, walking in slow, measured steps. I'm lost in thought. Why is she telling me this? And why is she not surprised that I'm here? She must have known I was coming—how? Questions tumble around my head. Finally, I choose one to ask. "What is the Scarlet Hand?"

"The Scarlet Hand, child, is an organization made up of Everafters just like you. Everafters who are fed up with the barrier. Everafters who are fed up with humans. Everafters who hate the Grimms."

I growl, thinking of Sabrina Grimm.

"We have one purpose: to get out of Ferryport Landing. We are magical beings, and yet we are held prisoner by humans. We are powerful, yet we live in fear that humans will discover us. Wouldn't it be so much easier to just lift up our heads and announce to the world who we are? Wouldn't it be the right thing to do to just let life deal with us the way we should be dealt with? And I'll tell you how we should be dealt with, child. We are Everafters. We should rule the world!"

I think of the Faerie homeland. We had to leave it, and for what? So we could huddle in rooms behind a bar, hiding underground lest the _humans_ find us? Why should we hide? We are stronger than them; why should we live in fear of them? I think of New York, of the filth and pollution of that city. _Humans_ did that! _Humans_ dirty up the world, then treat us Everafters like _we're_ trash! How dare they? _How dare they?_

"We are powerful!" I exclaim aloud. "We are powerful, and we must show them that!"

Heart watches me with gleaming eyes. "Yes! Exactly!" We've been walking up stairs and down hallways all this time, and I can't understand how she hasn't tripped. Her gaze is focused on me. "So, what do you say, Moth? Will you join us?"

"Join the Scarlet Hand?"

"Yes!"

I pause to think. Should I? It seems like it should be an easy decision, but it isn't. I agree with everything this organization is working for, but do I really want to ally myself with people as revolting as this woman? Do I want to ally myself with anyone at all? I have always worked alone. Besides, this Scarlet Hand is working to rule the world, it seems. And I cannot stand by and let someone else hold that title—Ruler of the World—when I know it should belong to me. And yet... it would help to have others to work with.

The mayor still watches me. "Well? Any answer?"

I'll work with them, for the time being. "Yes." I'll join them and work my way up to the very top. Then, when humans are subdued and Sabrina Grimm is dead, I shall take over this organization. I will rule a world of Everafters with Puck at my side. I shall have my happily ever after. "Yes. I will join the Scarlet Hand."


	15. The Kitchen

Sabrina Grimm glares at me, her eyes two fierce points of blue in the gloom. "Are you guilty?" she asks in a low, dangerous voice.

"Not guilty," I cry. "Not guilty!"

Her voice changes to Oberon's. "Are you guilty?"

"No! Never!"

And Oberon changes to Cobweb, who changes to Sabrina, and now all of them are surrounding me, and there's people I don't know, I don't know them, and all their mouths are moving and asking the same thing over and over and over and they're surrounding me and I can't back away because they're _there _ and I'm surrounded but alone and they're all people I've killed, but I'm not guilty, I'm never guilty, and those three at the front asking me again and again and again and Sabrina changes to a man I've never seen before and he says, _You want revenge_, and I run to him but _they_ follow me, but I'm not guilty, and Oberon is gushing the blood and wine and Cobweb's face is in such pain and I can't turn around because he's there, I know he is, behind me, where is he, why won't he just jump out and get it over with, I _know_ Mustardseed's there too, he can't hide, I spin around and—

My eyes fly open, and I stare at far wall of the bedroom. It's dark, but I can make out a table and curtains against the window. Clutching the thick blankets to me, I sit up.

The room is empty.

That was the third nightmare in three nights, but the first when I woke up to an empty room. For the first time, Mustardseed is not here to comfort me. I growl in anger.

And then, in my mind's eye, I see his head, caked with blood, lying on the forest floor, and I have to fight back a wave of nausea. The fancy dinner I enjoyed last night threatens to show itself again. I press the blanket to my mouth, eyes squeezed tight. After a moment, it passes.

There is no way I will be able to get back to sleep. I pull myself out of bed and meander about the room. Apparently the Scarlet Hand, and Mayor Heart in particular, are very rich, for it is well-furnished. Of course, it can never compare to the palaces of the old Faerie, but it will do for now. After all, it is the mayor's very best guest room, though Heart made it clear when she showed me around that I am more than a guest. I am now a member of this household.

To tell the truth, the mayor did not look all that sincere when she told me this. She tried, of course, but I could see that she had been ordered to do this by someone else. When I tried to ask her who, however, she always changed the subject.

I pace around the room, angry at Heart for being such a bad liar, angry at Mustardseed for not being here to comfort me after the nightmare, and most of all, angry at Sabrina Grimm. Last night, I set the old lady's mirror, the two flutes, and the horrible old hairbrush down on the bedside table, and now the pocket of my dress feels light and empty. It feels wrong to have it fluttering about so loosely, so pointlessly. I feel like I _need_ to have something in it.

My poisons.

They were taken from me before my trial, and I feel weak and unprotected without them. I must find replacements. Of course, I had many that were grown in the Faerie homeland, but those cannot be replaced for a long time. In the meantime, I shall have to make do with whatever herbs I can find in gardens and kitchens.

It's midnight—I can't go out in the garden right now. But I open the door and start down the hallway, because I remember from Mayor Heart's earlier tour where the kitchen is.

The carpet further muffles the already quiet sound of my footsteps. I creep silently down the grand staircase I saw when I first came in and cross the large rooms on the ground floor. The kitchen door is large and heavy and squeaks as I open it. I hold my breath, hoping nobody wakes up, and slip inside. I carefully close the door, turn around—and gasp.

There's a girl watching me.

I can barely see her because of the dark, but her hair stands out: it seems to be dyed in stripes, and every other glows pale green. Breathlessly, I reach for the light switch and flip it on. The girl stares at my feet, motionless. She is perched precariously on a counter in front of an open cupboard. Her cheeks bulge out, crumbs cover her mouth, and one hand is buried deep in a box of graham crackers. The other is clutching the edge of the counter, keeping her balance. Her hair, though no longer glowing, looks even crazier in the light. It's dyed in alternating stripes of green and black that barely brush her left shoulder, but on her right, it's as long as her waist.

She is first to break the silence. "You're standing on a crack in the linoleum!" Her voice is a little chirp, but muffled by the crackers in her mouth. Without waiting for a reply to her odd remark, she stuffs more food into her mouth.

I am indeed standing on a crack in the floor. Why on Earth was that the only thing she noticed? With her weird hair and bright pink nightgown, she looks as though she's escaped from the nearby asylum. I shall have to ask Mayor Heart about her in the morning. Rolling my eyes and doing my best to ignore her, I start to rummage through drawers and cupboards.

"What are you looking for?" She slides down from her spot and swallows.

"Poison," I answer absentmindedly.

The crazy girl giggles. "You silly goose! Heart doesn't keep her poisons in the drawers! Who would do that? She keeps them over _there_." She points under the sink.

I roll my eyes. "I am not interested in weak little ant poisons, you ignorant fool. Kindly leave. You are quite annoying."

Her smile doesn't vanish. "What kind are you looking for, then?"

"The kind that will rid me of pests like you."

"Well, _those _poisons are in _that_ cupboard!" She points to another.

I pay no attention. Opening cupboards at will, I find one with shelves upon shelves of herbs and start pulling them down. These are simply common food flavorings, but some, when mixed in certain ways, can actually be quite deadly. I pride myself on being one of the few who know how to prepare them.

The annoying girl is still there, with her constant grin. She seems to bounce with every move she makes. "Your name is Moth!" she informs me. "Moths are pretty, but butterflies are better! Mayor Heart says you're a stuck-up little brat and she has no idea why he told her to bring you here! Paprika is a fun word! Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-puh-puh-puh-riiiiiii-kuh!"

I'm not even holding a jar of paprika. The girl's words fade to a hum in my ears, but one thing catches my interest. "He? Who's he?"

"He who?"

"You said some 'he' told Heart to bring me here."

"Oh, yeah!"

"Well, who is he?"

"He's got no hair!"

I can't get any real information out of this strange girl. She keeps up her chatter as I replace the herb jars and close the pouch I use to hold them. I turn to slip out of the kitchen, casting one glance back at her. She doesn't follow me. Her eyes are focused on the far wall—in fact, the entire time I was there, never once did she look directly at me—and she keeps on talking.

I snort and shake my head. Apparently I am now living in a house with a lunatic. No matter. If she bothers me too much, I can always get rid of her.

I find my way back to my room, the nightmare a distant memory.


	16. The Friend

In the morning, I am awoken by a bright and cheery voice.

"I have now decreed that your dinosaur's name is Muffins, and you are my friend!"

I startle up and look at the person sitting on the edge of my bed. It's the same crazy-haired girl as last night. "Your name is Moth," she informs me.

"Get off my bed."

"You talk in your sleep!"

"I what?"

"And I think I saw a bit of drool! I can't be certain!"

"Get _out_ of my _room_!"

"Ooh, those curtains are pretty!" She gets up and prances to the window. "Look at the green!"

I growl.

"Today my name is Bubblegum!"

In my head, I have already named her "Fool." I tell her this.

She gets a look of concentration on her face. "Ffffffff… ooooo… fffffffooooooooo luh luh luh…. It's pretty!" I groan. Fool rushes back across the room, grabs my hand, and yanks me out of bed. She pulls and tugs me across the carpet and toward the door.

"What are you doing?"

"We're gonna go meet a friend!"

"You can't make me!"

"Her name is Red! Isn't that pretty? She lives in an asylum!"

This sounds rather interesting, actually. Quickly, I wrench my hand free from her grasp and snatch the poison satchel, one of the flutes, and the little black mirror from the bedside table. Putting them in my pocket, I follow Fool out the door.

She leads me down the hallway and to the first floor. The whole time, she has the same wide grin on her face. I wonder if her muscles are frozen in that expression forever.

Suddenly she stops and sniffs the air like an animal. "I smell bacon," she announces. Without further warning, she yanks me in another direction. I stumble and pull my hand out of her grasp. She pays no attention and continues to follow the delicious aroma all the way to the dining room. I enter behind her and find that the table is set for breakfast. Mayor Heart sits at the head of it, Nottingham on her right. With what she most likely thinks is a gracious smile, Heart beckons me over to a seat by her.

I roll my eyes. This woman is ugly and annoying, and I am most certainly not going to sit next to her throughout breakfast. Pointedly, I turn and march to the only other seat—right across from Fool. I would rather be near this grinning idiot than Heart and her wildly painted face.

Fool has already helped herself to an enormous pile of bacon and is crunching happily on two strips at once. I sniff in disdain. Even last night, when I was simply ravenous, I did not eat nearly as pig-like as this girl does.

Heart does not look any happier to have me at her table than I am to be here. But even as annoyed as I seem to make her, the majority of her glares are directed at Fool. "So," she mutters angrily, "you've finally come back, huh?"

"I like bacon," Fool replies, probably in way of explanation.

"This is, what, the third time in a month?" Heart looks at the sheriff for confirmation. He nods. "Yes! The third! I'm sick of it! If it weren't for his orders, it'd be off with your head!"

"Whose orders?" I interrupt. "What are you talking about?"

Heart jerks her head in Fool's direction. "This _idiot_ here keeps disappearing for days at a time! And _every single time_, she pops back up without a word, and I'm supposed to welcome her back in, happy and cheerful, blah blah blah."

"Yes," I agree. "I can see how that might grate on your nerves.

"I should just kick her out!" the mayor fumes. "Out on her ear, just like that! He'll never need to know!"

The sheriff looks up from his food. "Shut your mouth, woman. You really think you can do that? You didn't get where you are now by disobeying his every order. He'll find out, you idiot, he will!"

Heart looks around at the walls, as if checking for something. "No," she says. "He won't find out. Not about this conversation at least. Don't talk to me like I don't know anything. Maybe you didn't realize this, but he told _me_ to run for mayor, and _you_ to head the police force—"

"Who's 'he?'" I ask. Heart pauses her tirade and glares at me.

"The Master, child, who else? He's the one that told me I need to care for this fool here—" she gestures at Fool, who is gazing happily at the wall— "and refused to give me an explanation. Even when she runs off, I get no sympathy from him. She was gone for more than two weeks before she turned up today. And of course, I, his loyal servant, am not allowed to say a word against her."

"Is she insane?"

"Not sure. She acts like it, but every so often, she comes out with some sort of deep philosophical statement that actually makes sense. I can't make head or tail of her, to tell the truth. Not even sure what her real name is—she changes it ever day. All I know is she's close to the Master."

There's a loud sucking noise as Fool licks off her fingers. Out of nowhere, she declares, "Muffins needs to be fed!"

"Muffins?" Nottingham asks.

"The dinosaur," I explain.

"I think he likes bacon! Everybody likes bacon!"

"Idiot," Nottingham mutters under his breath. "How are we supposed to feed a dinosaur on nothing but bacon?"

"Lots and lots of bacon!"

"You'll need to feed him something," I tell him. "Or he'll gladly eat _you_."

Nottingham glares for a second, then stands and heads for the kitchen. "I'll call someone to feed the beast," he growls.

Heart watches him leave, then turns back to her food. She jabs at a pancake with her fork a few times and glances up at me. She gives a painful-looking grimace, probably her attempt at a warm smile. "So, child—"

"Moth. My name is Moth."

"Moth. That dress is all torn and worn out. Would you like some new clothes? I can get all sorts of lovely things for you—"

I glare with distaste at her gaudy heart-patterned gown. "No. I do not think I could stand to wear any clothes chosen by you. Besides, I am queen of Faerie. I will not wear anything made outside of my kingdom, let alone by humans."

Fool suddenly skips around the table and touches the shoulder of my dress. "She's right!" she tells me. "This thing is completely torn up! I'll fix it for you! Come upstairs!"

"I don't need _you_ to fix anything for me!"

"Come on!" And now she's pulling on me again, dragging me through rooms and back up the stairs. Her room, it turns out, is not far from mine. She pushes me down on a chair and plops on the bed. In a quick flurry of movement, she pulls a small box out of a drawer in her desk. She extracts a needle and proceeds to thread it.

"You can sew?" I ask incredulously.

"Yep! Sewing's fun! I can sew, knit, embroider, crochet..."

I snort. "Wouldn't be surprised if Mustardseed could sew, the lame little weirdo."

Fool kneels on the floor and starts repairing one of the many rips in my dress. "He can sew? Cool! You've got to introduce me to this guy!"

I smile wryly. "Too bad he's dead."

Fool doesn't even seem to notice what I said; she just keeps on with her work. The biggest rips are fixed before I know it. Smiling, the girl packs away her needle and thread and pulls a jacket out of her closet. "Come on! Time to go!"

"Go where?"

"The asylum, of course!"


	17. The Asylum

Fool wraps herself up in three layers of clothing while I stand by impatiently and watch. When she is finally ready, enveloped in a ridiculously thick, bright green jacket, we leave.

Fool keeps up a happy stream of chatter as we wander through the thin dusting of snow. A few microscopically tiny snowflakes fall. I pay them no attention. None of them are perfect. I simply follow Fool. It occurs to me that this might not be very clever—after all, she is rather scatterbrained—but someone like her will always end up at an asylum sooner or later. In the meantime, I admire the view.

Ferryport Landing is a very beautiful town, I now discover. Nothing like the old Faerie, of course, but beautiful all the same. Here, there are none of the vicious, roaring cars that so often sped by in New York City. The few cars I do see crawl along leisurely. The houses are quaint and wooden, not at all the towering giants I'm used to, and they look like they are _part_ of the landscape, like they grew there with the trees.

And then a large building looms atop a hill. "There!" Fool sings. "That's where we're going!"

I eye the mountain distastefully and choose to fly up. Fool, on the other hand, huffs and puffs inside her down jacket. The smile never leaves her face, though. She probably sleeps with that smile.

When we're finally inside, the warm air blasts into me, and I feel dizzy. Cursing my weak constitution, I lean against a wall and fan myself until it passes. When I look up, I find an enormously fat woman looking down at us.

"Well, then, I see you've brought a friend," she sighs to Fool, who grins and nods happily. "I take it you're not here of your own free will," the nurse adds to me. "Nobody ever is."

"I am here for my own reasons," I tell her, even though it's not technically true. But the fat on her cheeks jiggles in a most unpleasant way when she speaks, and I want to get away from her as quickly as possible. Without another word, I follow Fool down a hall. She skips around corners and makes complicated turns without even a thought.

She has obviously been here before.

She finally stops in front of a door with a small plaque that says LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. Humming happily, and without knocking, she opens it.

A plastic teacup misses her head by inches.

Fool doesn't even blink. "Hello, friend! How are you?"

"_They won't let me have my basket back!_" screams a little girl in the center of the room, and throws another teacup. This one almost hits me, and I duck. It smashes into the wall behind me with a loud _thunk_. When I look back, I can see that it left a dent. Trying not to show my nervousness, I close the door.

Fool, of course, acts as if this is perfectly normal and leaps right into a conversation. "I had a basket once!"

The little girl's head jerks up, all signs of anger gone. "You did?"

"Yes! It was very prettyful! It had red and green stripes on it!"

The girl makes a face. "I don't like green. It's ugly."

"Is not!"

"_YES IT IS!_" I jump back. The girl screamed so hard, her face turned red with the effort.

"Or maybe it was black! If you want, I can give you my basket!"

Her face suddenly breaks into a radiant grin. "Yes! Oh, please, yes! Have some tea!"

Fool prances right over to a play table and sits down. She lifts an empty teacup—one that survived the throwing rampage—and takes a pretend sip. The little girl does the same. For a moment, all they do is play the tea party like that. I stand by a wall, looking around. The walls, which I didn't notice at first, are padded. Bars cover the tiny window, and all the light comes from a flickering florescent bulb in the center of the austere white ceiling. All the furniture—even the plastic table and chairs the girls sit in now—is nailed to the floor.

And everything I see is in shades of either white, black, or blood red.

Suddenly, Fool nods over at me. "That's Moth!" she tells the girl. "She's my friend! She has a muffin and wings and a very horrible love life!"

"Shut up," I tell her, though the chances she'll listen are very slim.

"And this is Red!" Fool continues. "She's crazy!"

"Absolutely crazy!" agrees the other girl.

"She talks gibberish!"

"Complete gibberish!"

"And she used to have a kitty!"

Red's face falls. "I miss my kitty," she says softly. "They won't tell me where my kitty is. Where is my kitty?"

Fool reaches out and pats Red's hand compassionately. "Tell Moth about your kitty!"

A far-off look comes into Red's face "My kitty," she begins, "is the prettiest kitty in the world. It has long, fluffy fur and tiny little paws..."

As Red continues, Fool picks up a sheaf of paper from the table and shows it to me. It's a series of finger paintings of a family. There's a mother, father, grandmother, a little boy, and a little girl—Red herself. Behind them looms a tall monster with curving teeth and claws. I recognize it immediately. I saw them on _The New Beginning_ when we sailed here, though I thought they had all been killed. It's a Jabberwocky.

Fool taps it and mouths a single word. _Kitty_.

I understand. Little Red Riding Hood is crazy, and she thinks that one of the Jabberwockies is—or was—her kitty. I wonder what happened to it. Red keeps on describing her "kitty" in great detail, and Fool gazes off at the far wall happily. I am obviously the only sane one here.

And yet... I do feel sorry for this little girl. She doesn't actually seem all that dangerous. True, she was having a fit when I first came in, but it was because she wanted something. A basket, she said. Well, why couldn't the people just give her the basket? Was it dangerous? I highly doubt it. This girl wanted something, and she wanted it immediately. And that is something I can relate to.

And then, looking at the painting of the Jabberwocky, I get an idea.

"Red?" I interrupt. She stops and smiles up at me brightly. "Did you love your kitty very much?"

"Oh, yes." She nods emphatically.

"Well, I don't know where your kitty is. But I have one." I think of the t-rex. "If you want, I can give you mine."

She jumps up and claps her hands together. "Where is it? Where is it?"

I walk over and sit in one of the chairs, choosing my words carefully. "I'm sorry, but they didn't let me bring it here. There's no room for it in this place."

Red folds her arms and harrumphs. "There was room for _my_ kitty here."

"Well, this one's bigger."

"But I don't _want_ a bigger kitty!" Out of nowhere, she's screaming again. "I want _my_ kitty!"

"But you'll like this one; I promise!"

"_NO!_"

The door flies open and the fat nurse hurries in. "Girls, I heard the screams and—aah!"

This time, Red has thrown a saucer.

"Red, darling, time for the medicine!" the nurse pants.

"I don't _want_ medicine! I don't _want_ it! You can't make me! No!" She whirls around, snatching at papers, stuffed animals, anything, and flinging them about. "Get away from me! I want my kitty!"

The nurse chases after the girl as I back up against a wall. Fool, completely unfazed and still gazing off into the distance, skips over next to me. Red flings herself on the bed and hangs on to the bars on the window above it. The nurse pulls her down, and Red bites her arm.

"It's time to go!" Fool chirps happily.

I couldn't agree more. Cautiously, I slip out the door, Fool right behind me. We find our way back through the hallways, the little girl's anguished screams echoing behind us. I am very relieved when we finally exit the building.

"Why do you even go there?" I ask Fool, who's skipping.

"Because! Red's a friend!"

"Of course."


	18. The Protester

**Fool leads me happily down the white, snowy streets of Ferryport Landing. Puddles have formed of melted ice along the road; whenever we pass one, Fool runs, jumps, and splashes into it. I make sure to follow her slowly, so as not to get wet.**

I could be flying now, but my wing muscles are still sore. Besides, I like the sensation of the snow crunching softly, quietly, beneath my shoes...

Mustardseed's shoes. I'm still wearing them. Their owner is currently lying somewhere outside the barrier; has his body been discovered yet, by any humans wandering off of the road? Have birds and wildlife come to feast? The image presents a slight wave of nausea, but only very slight. I will forget this soon, I know.

"Where are you leading me?" I ask Fool, just now realizing that we are not heading back towards the mansion.

"Puddle!" she cries cheerfully as she takes a running leap at yet another one. "To the mayor's office!"

"Why?"

" 'Cause! He told me to!"

"Who is this 'he?'"

"The Master, you silly! Who'd you think? Puddle!" She runs off.

The Master. I know that no matter how often as I ask, I will not be able to learn his name; even Fool would not be careless enough to tell me. I am not yet trusted enough by the Scarlet Hand.

"There!" Fool suddenly yells, pointing. I see a small yet ornate building, undoubtedly the office. Frost glitters on the dead lawn and crunches under the feet of a small crowd. They hold signs by their side, and mill about as though waiting for more people.

Protesters.

Fool and I walk up the narrow path. I look from side to side. The crowd, seeing my apparent ease there, glare at me. No doubt they have a complaint about Heart. One young blonde woman stands near the front, rubbing her arms to keep warm. Every so often she glances over her shoulder, as though longing to be somewhere else.

It's lovely and warm inside the building. Fool peels off her layers of jackets and drops them on the floor, as if this were her home. Without a glance back at them, she skips down the maze of hallways. I hurry along in her wake.

Why have I been doing _nothing_ but following her today?

Suddenly, there are loud, clear footsteps behind us. I turn and see the blond woman hurrying, businesslike, down the hall. She passes us without noticing, wrenches open a door on the left, and stalks in. Immediately, I hear muffled yelling.

Fool smiles throughout this entire episode. She meanders, as if by accident, up to the same door and enters. I slip in after her.

The force of the argument hits me full-blast.

"No! This is unacceptable! Have you any idea how long this hospital has been established? Do you know how long I've been working there?"

"No." Mayor Heart stands behind a little counter, wearing an unpleasantly smug smile.

"That's right! You have no idea, because you're ignorant. You're new at this job, aren't you, mayor? I, however, have been at my job for many, many years. You know who you're talking to? You're talking to Mary Anne, who is _still_ at the hospital, and probably will be for _life_!"

"But you're not a doctor, are you, Mary Anne?"

The woman seems to deflate. "Well... not as such, no."

"Ah, right, these papers here say that you're a nurse. Ms Nurse, you're down here speaking for the whole hospital?"

The woman glares. "Yes. Nobody else would come."

"I see—"

"_They wouldn't come_ because they're all so busy—we all have to work overtime, because of all the staff cuts! And on _top_ of that, we've got a new patient in, near-death, and it's something we've never seen before—"

"I _see_. Now listen here, Mary Anne. If your workplace truly has a problem with the way I run things, they can send someone of importance down here. Not some nurse. Got it?"

The nurse seems to flail desperately for a moment, then yells, "You can't close us down!"

"Oh, I can. I am, after all, the mayor."

The woman stands and fumes for a moment longer, then spins around and huffs out. I watch her with raised eyebrows, then turn back to Heart, who is wearing a gloating smile. "Who was that?" I ask.

"Just some stupid human who noticed that the budget had changed a bit since I became mayor."

"How so?"

"My salary increased and the hospital received less funds. Nothing important." She sits down and shuffles a few papers, then glances up. "Oh, you brought that girl with you."

I glance at Fool. "She brought herself."

"Really? Just the kind of thing she would do, then."

"Actually, she brought me. You wanted to see me? I assume you have something to tell me, and this has not been merely a way to waste my time."

Heart glares. "Something to tell you. We need—the Scarlet Hand need—we need your help."

"Why?"

"Well, what we're ask-"

"Not why you need my help. Why I should agree."

She looks taken aback. "You're part of the Hand now! You've got to help!"

"Make me."

I stand back and marvel at the effect of these two words. Heart looks like she might explode. "You will help us or I will chop off your head, girl!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

Heart clenches her hand into a fist and advances on me. Then suddenly, with her characteristic randomness, Fool screams, "Fly!" and dives at the window across the room. She swats at the small black insect as it buzzes around, and crashes into Heart. The mayor spins around and suddenly goes after the girl.

"I'll do it!" I cry.

She seems taken aback by this sudden agreement, but it is not unwarranted. Nobody in the Scarlet Hand trusts me yet, and I need them to. I need them to believe I like them.

And besides that, I wouldn't have very much liked watching Heart behead Fool.

"I agreed to join," I tell the mayor, "so I'll do as I'm told. But remember, you also agreed to help me kill Sabrina Grimm, and I shall hold you to that."

"Of course. However, nobody quite knows where the Sisters Grimm are at the moment."

"_What?_"

"They've disappeared. Now will you listen to me?"

Gritting my teeth, I growl out, "Yes."


	19. The Stables

As we approach the stables, I can hear Nottingham's voice ringing out.

"Careful, you idiot! Do you _want_ to get—_CAREFUL_!"

He comes stumbling out and leans on the doorframe, panting and sweating. Looking greatly relieved, he fans his face and sighs. When he spots me, he stands up straight, mutters something quite rude, and stalks off.

"Muffins!" says Fool quite knowledgeably.

As a matter of fact, that is indeed the first thing that I see when I enter the stable—the dinosaur that my strange companion so kindly gave a name to, secured in a a corner by magical chains. A half-devoured carcass lies next to it. I can smell the stench of blood from where I stand, and I look away quickly. I do not want to inquire what, or who, it once was.

A short, skinny boy leans against a rail on the opposite wall, staring at the t-rex. Whenever the dinosaur pulls extra hard on the chains, the boy lets out an annoying high-pitched giggle. For no reason I can think of, he makes me angry. Maybe it's the way he's standing here ogling at _my _creature, maybe it's because he looks so weird and twitchy, or maybe it is simple because I've been in such a bad mood lately. Whatever the reason, I automatically glare at him as I come in.

Apparently, he hears us, because he turns around and glares right back. And now I don't want to be the first to break eye contact, because somehow, that would be losing.

And so we stand there, staring each other down, until Fool skips over to him and breaks unspoken contest.

"This is Toby," she announces proudly. "He's a spider." Then, gesturing at me, she continues, "This is Moth. She has a very horrible love life."

I roll my eyes. "Do you intend to introduce me to _everyone_ like that?"

"Get used to it," advises the boy, Toby, before turning back to watch the dinosaur.

"Why are you here?" I ask him.

"To look at the t-rex, duh. Bubblegum called me this morning to tell me about it. It's totally awesome!"

"Bubblegum?"

"ME!" Fool screeches, shooting her hand into the air.

Toby doesn't seem to be remotely surprised by this outburst. "_Duh_," he says again, and goes back to watching the t-rex as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

Of course, I can't blame him. The animal doesn't seem to like its surroundings. It thrashes back and forth, swinging its head about wildly. It is quite amusing, and I would love to watch Heart and the sheriff deal with it for a while, but I feel that I must at least have it under _my_ control.

Let me see... it should not be that difficult to turn into.

My legs grow longer and thicker. My head elongates. My arms shrivel up and lose their fingers, and I grow a tail. Within seconds, I am a tyrannosaurus rex just as large as this one. There is hardly enough room for the two of us together, and immediately, I long to be able to stretch. But I must deal with it, if only for a few moments.

The monster across from me looks shocked at the sudden appearance of a duplicate. It tosses its head back and roars—and I can _understand_ it. Moreover, I can speak to it.

_You are mine_, I tell it simply. _Obey me._

Toby, a long distance below me, looks fascinated by the sight. Fool, as might be expected, is following the flight of another fly and paying no attention to anything else.

_Never_, says the other t-rex.

_You will obey me._ It's not an order, it's a simple statement of what will be. I look the other in its—her—colossal eyes. She roars a bit, trying to stare back, but eventually she gives up. If she were a person, she would be shuffling her feet nervously now.

And it was so simple. Natural life is like that—neat and uncomplicated. So like today's world! And I can tell that the t-rex feels the same; her primitive emotions are all jumbled. I can sense her confusion at being thrown into this new, different world.

Toby watches in admiration as I shrink down to my normal shape. "That was so cool!" he cries. "Can you do that for _anything_?"

"Yes." He probably sense the coldness in my voice, because he shrugs and turns back to watching the dinosaur. It is no longer as interesting, however; it sits, subdued.

Fool comes up closer to me and happily chirps, "Muffins is not the right name for your dinosaur! It's evil, so it _must_ be named Brownies!"

I don't even bother to try and deal with her strange logic, but I do focus one one thing that she said.

_Is it evil? Really?_

"Look, Toby!" Fool cries. "See that tooth? _There?_ It looks yellower than all the others!"

"Mm-hmm." Toby nods, apparently trying to feign interest. Why does he care?

"I certainly do not recall giving you the right to come here and stare at my property," I say, trying to get rid of him.

He rolls his eyes. "I already told you. _She_ did."

"I did not give _her_ the right to give—"

"Who gave _you_ the right to give _anyone_ the right to do _anything_?"

If he thinks he can beat me with such a twisted, convoluted question, he is wrong. "I always have the right. I am a Queen."

He turns. He blinks. And then... he bursts out laughing.

I feel the heat of anger rise to my face. "What is so amusing, peasant?"

"You!" Toby gasps. "That's—hilarious! You think—you're—a Queen!"

"I _am_ a Queen!"

"Ha _ha_!"

"Get out of my sight!"

He wipes tears, real tears, from his eyes. "Make me," he retorts, still chuckling.

This should be easy; he's skinny as a twig. I step forward, grab his wrist, and pull it in the direction of the door—and before I know it, he slips away and shoves me down into the dirt.

I gasp. _Never_ has anyone _dared_ to do that before! But Toby seems to think it's all good fun. His waves of laughter start anew.

"Some Queen!"

Furiously, I kick out at his legs, hoping to trip him. He jumps aside quickly, laughing.

"Gotta do better than that!"

I stand, keeping my dignity even though I am splattered with mud. "Out!" I scream, pointing. "_Out!_"

"Sure." He wraps his jacket tightly around him and leaves, chortling. I lean over and do my best to brush whatever filth I can off my dress—this thing has been through far too much abuse in the past few weeks.

Fool stares happily at the wall behind me. "What were you fighting about, again?"

I honestly can't remember.


	20. The Assignment

The morning passes uneventfully, or at least as uneventfully as a morning can when one is around Fool. She keeps me occupied with her constant chatter about anything and everything. Most of what she says makes no sense, but listening keeps my mind off other things—such as the way I'm merely sitting around when I've such an important goal of my own to accomplish.

But what can I do? Heart told me that both the Grimm girls are missing, and I am not the least bit interested in the rest of the family. However, I do realize, at around noon, that Puck is still there. This is a chance—a chance to talk to him when Sabrina Grimm is not around! As soon as the idea comes, I run to find someone who can give me directions to the Grimm house—foolishly, I did not think to ask beforehand. However, as both Mayor Heart and Nottingham are away at their jobs, the only person I can find is a member of the cleaning staff. He, a card soldier, informs me that it is the mayor's wish that I remain on the mansion's grounds. I was only allowed away fro a brief time this morning because Heart ordered it.

I feel trapped, and consider simply flying away, but I still would not know where the Grimm house is.

So all I can do is sit around and wait. Once or twice, I try to talk to Fool, but it is impossible to get a logical answer out of her. When I try to ask her about the location of the Grimm house, she says it's "by the woods" and launches into a speech about the local butterflies. Seeing as it's perfectly apparent that I'm going to get nowhere, I merely pass my time by arranging and rearranging my few small possessions on the bedside table.

The sky darkens quickly, as it always does in winter, and soon afterwards Fool leads me out to dinner. She does it without looking at a clock; I suspect the girl is simply capable of sensing when food has just been prepared. The dinner table is set for four—Heart, Fool, me, and Nottingham, who apparently lives here.

Heart and Nottingham are already waiting for us. As Fool and I sit down, Heart opens her mouth as if to say something, but I interrupt. My matters are more important than hers.

"Why was I not permitted out of the house?"

It is clear that Heart did not expect to be confronted like this; she leans back in surprise. "Well," is her clever reply. After a moment she gets over it. "I'm just following the Master's orders. He said that I'm supposed to know where you are all the time, and unless you want to sit in the office with me all day—"

I interrupt again. "If the Master, whoever he is, requires my help, then he must respect me. I refuse to be cooped up like this!"

"Listen, you made a deal—"

"I will uphold my end of it, if you uphold yours! You promised to help me find Sabrina Grimm!"

"And we will! Now stop interrupting and just _listen_ or I will _chop off your head_, do you understand me?" Her face is red as a beet root.

"Do you not trust me?"

"No." That's Nottingham, speaking up for the first time. "We don't trust you a bit, we just need you here to help get rid of those foul Grimms."

"You're such a nice guy!" Fool slurps down more food.

"Now listen to the mayor," Nottingham continues. "If you want help, you have to give it."

"Exactly." The mayor is breathing heavily, quite obviously angry. "Now listen. We want the Grimms dead as much as you do—and believe me, you _do_, if you ever plan to get out of this prison. But like I said, the two Grimm girls are missing. They disappeared a couple of days ago, and the family's frantic. If there was ever a time to attack, it's now."

"But how do you plan to attack?" I ask.

"Exactly. We _need_ a plan. And for that, we need to know our way around the place—and that's where you come in."

She pauses, as if she expects me to say something intelligent, such as, "Who, me?" But I remain silent, so she continues:

"We need a spy, someone who can scope out around the house. Someone sneaky. We've got all sorts of giants and powerful people in the Scarlet Hand, but no one small and quiet."

"No short people," Fool supplies helpfully. "And all fatties."

I glance at Heart's rotund stomach and stifle a laugh. How true. Then immediately I feel miffed at the obvious comment on my own size; I've never enjoyed being smaller than others. My next thought is finally one of comprehension. "You want me to go and spy on the Grimms, to report on their weaknesses, yes?"

Heart and Nottingham glance at each other, then nod. "Right," Heart says. "You're perfect for the job. The Master told us about what you did in New York just recently, and we figure that if you're sneaky enough to poison the King of Faerie, this assignment should be a piece of cake. At least—" she scowled "—it _better_ be."

"Because," growls Nottingham, "if you slip up and get caught, you're dooming the entire Scarlet Hand. _Everything_ we've worked for. The future of all Everafters.

"No pressure," says Fool, spaghetti sauce dribbling down her chin.

Nottingham barely glances at her. "Is that clear?"

This man thinks he can intimidate me? I stared down the entire jury at my trial; I'm more than a match for him. "Perfectly, sir."

"Good." He leans back. "Because if even a _tiny_ thing goes wrong, things will not go well for you. I can't speak for the Master, but _I_ for one will not be merciful." As if to highlight his point, he runs his finger along the dagger in his belt.

I meet his stare levelly. "I assure you that I am more than capable."

"She is." It's truly amazing how engaged in a conversation Fool can actually be, at times. "She's got wings and she can tiptoe like nobody else and she can get the pretty little lights to help her!"

If Heart and Nottingham are in any way comforted by this statement, they most certainly do not show it. I finish my dinner in silence—disgusting peasant food, too lowly to comment on—and push my chair back. Fool half-stands and half-crouches, shoveling the last bits of food into her mouth, before straightening up and joining me. She skips off to her room without a word to me, which is how I prefer it.

I duck into my bathroom quickly to brush my teeth, then climb into bed. For a moment, I slightly regret not accepting Heart's offer of new clothes this morning; a clean nightgown would have been lovely. I do my best to keep my dignity, but which is worse: to accept charity offers from near-strangers, hardly even magical ones at that, or to go around in one's own beloved clothes, ragged as they may be?

I take the poison, the flute, and the mirror from my pocket and set them on the little table, then pull the covers over me. I fear another nightmare, and toss and turn for quite a while before I dare to let myself fall asleep. Many thoughts flit through my head, but the last I can remember is:

_How did the Master know what I did in New York two weeks ago?_


	21. The Spy

A nightmare leaves me cold and shivering.

I curl up tightly under the thick blanket, but it does little to help. Already I am forgetting what the nightmare was about, but the feeling stays with me. Knowing that I will not be able to fall asleep again, I stand up.

I pull the blanket off the bed with me, keeping it wrapped around my shoulders. I found a good hairbrush in this room last night; now I set about untangling my long hair. My glance falls upon the filthy plastic brush Mustardseed gave me, and I am thoroughly relieved that I shall never have to use it again. I make a mental note to throw it in a fire the first chance I get. However, I take Titania's flute and the little mirror and place them in my pocket; I don't intend to go anywhere without them.

When my hair and teeth are brushed, my face is washed, and memories of the nightmare are all near gone, I head downstairs. Breakfast seems to have already been prepared, so I take a plate from the kitchen and sit at the table.

Heart is the next to come downstairs, looking much better than usual due to the complete absence of any makeup, then Nottingham, already immaculately clothed and groomed. Fool comes down when I am already completely finished. She is wearing droopy pajamas, her ridiculously colored hair all tangled around her head, and her eyes half-closed. Nevertheless, she piles up an entire plate and begins eating with incredible speed.

Breakfast takes a while, mostly because of Fool. Nottingham and Heart, once they are finished, go back to their rooms. Unsure of what to do, I go back to mine as well, and spend the remaining time brushing my hair over and over. I don't need to, but it feels soothing.

Then Heart knocks at my door. When I open it, she beckons me over to a window and points. "Down that street," she says, "then turn right on Maple." She goes on with the directions, then gives me a description of the house. "Huge, at the end of its lane, completely backed by evergreen forests. Plain old brown color. Shouldn't be _too_ hard for you to find."

Fool sidles up to us on her way to her room. "See, she has confidence in you!" she says cheerily before going to get dressed.

"Anything else I should know?" I ask Heart.

"I don't _know_ much about the place. That's _why_ we're sending you there."

Fool pops out, having changed in a remarkably short time. "Come, friend!" She grasps my arm and leads me downstairs to the door and then, because she's that kind of person, pushes me out and slams it behind me. Normally, of course, I would stride back in and demand apologies for the insult, but today I am impatient to get to the Grimm house.

The journey is short, Heart's directions perfectly simple. I find the house without any trouble at all, then dart to the forest behind it and sidle between the trees. From here, I can see the back of the house, but it is unlikely that anybody inside can see me.

_What now?_ I wait.

After a while, I realize how incredibly pointless that is. The sun is well over the horizon, and everybody inside must be wide awake, but there's no chance of me finding out anything important while I'm way out here. I need to get closer; it might be a risk, but I'll take it.

I glance left and right, then scurry across the backyard. It worries me to leave the cover of the trees, but with any luck, nobody will be looking outside. I creep right up to a window on the ground floor, crouch down, and peek in. What a stroke of luck—it's the living room, and both Relda Grimm and the Wolf are sitting there. They seem to be speaking, but their voices are too quiet.

I press my ear up against the glass. Now I can just barely hear, and thankfully, my head is obscured by a large pile of books on the sill.

"—don't know. I think I've gotten the phone number of just about everybody in the town now. Nobody has a clue."

"Listen to me, Relda," the Wolf says. He sounds tired. "I still believe that it has something to do with the storm that built up while we were training. It was magical, I can _sense_ these things."

"But that makes no sense! Are... are you sure you saw nothing else?"

"If I had, I would have told you." The Wolf's voice is a growl, and I get the feeling that he has said this many times before.

When Relda responds, she sounds nervous. "I know, I know. It's just... I'm scared, old friend. What if they're gone forever? What if the Scarlet Hand has them?"

_If only._

"My precious _leiblings_... what if they've been kidnapped, and someone comes after you next, or Puck?"

"Calm yourself." It's odd to hear the Wolf saying that; last I remember, _he_ constantly needed to be calmed. "They don't have a chance of taking me, and I'd quite like to see the force it would take to take the Trickster King somewhere he doesn't want to go."

"Of course." Relda sniffs, and I realize she's been crying quietly. "Where is the boy, anyway?"

"Up in his room, brooding." Oddly, I can hear a smile in the Wolf's voice. "Trust me, it won't be long before he figures out a way to rescue your granddaughters without making it obvious."

_Making what obvious?_ I wonder for a brief moment, but that thought is quickly overtaken by another. If the Wolf is right, Puck is simply sitting in a room all on his own—if I can find him, I can talk to him, this time _without_ Sabrina Grimm walking in! But I must hurry.

As quietly as I can, I take off, flying straight up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Wolf twitch, as if he has spotted me. But he does nothing, so I ignore it.

I need to find some way into the house. An open window would be preferable, but highly unlikely in January. Perhaps I can find the window to his room—if he sees me, he'll open it. I know he'd be unable to resist.

But I am unsuccessful. I can't see Puck anywhere, and there is simply no other way to get in. There _is_ the chimney, of course, but I know that I would be noticed. Besides, I am not going to sink so low.

_Why_ can't I find his room? It has windows, surely. Don't all rooms? But I can't find it, so out of desperation, I try opening a different window. It looks like it leads into a bedroom, possible where the Grimm girls sleep. I can't open it. When I peer closer, I see why: it's nailed shut.

But that gives me an inspiration: surely, somewhere on the upper floor, there's a window that can be forced open from the outside. It's a narrow hope, but before long, I am proved correct. I manage to slide one open and stumble into a hallway.

Now, actually inside the Grimm house, it seems even more dangerous. I feel oddly exhilarated from being in this situation. I can just barely hear the soft voices below me, so I know that I must be extremely quiet if they are not to detect _me_. I float slowly along the hall, looking at the doors on either side. And there! Yes! There! A door covered entirely with badly-spelled "Keep Out" signs. _His_ room.

My heart beating excitedly, I turn the doorknob. Its light squeak sounds like a blaring alarm to my ears, and I wince. Barely breathing, I open the door.

So—_this_ is why the room had no window! A vast meadow spreads out before me, a forest of trees on the horizon. It's impossible, magical, wonderful. Excited, I take a step forward—

Suddenly, I hear running footsteps at the other end of the hall. Spinning around, I see the Wolf leaping to the top of the stairs, eyes flashing. He pauses for a moment to glare. "I _thought_ I smelled an intruder," he growls, and lunges at me.

I jump back with a yell. The Wolf's hands—claws—barely miss me, and he stands up, ready for another attack. Without wasting a second, I turn and fly, hating myself for running, but knowing that I stand no chance—

And the Wolf chases me down the hall, arms outstretched, until I flee out the open window, and still he leans outside, following me with his eyes and growling, until I'm gone, lost among the houses of Ferryport Landing, safe and terrified.


	22. The Mirror

"You actually went _inside_ the house?"

Heart glares at me, and I glare right back. I know I failed, and I do not to be told it by this ridiculous woman. I doubt _she_ could have done any better, anyway.

"Did you at least learn _anything_ new?"

"Not a thing." It turns out she already knew the layout of the house, as a member of the Scarlet Hand helped build it, and the news about Relda and the Wolf searching for the Grimm sisters is hardly new. "Really, your interrogation is pointless. If you'll excuse me, I shall head to my room."

I leave her spluttering where she stands and climb up the stairs. I am, of course, extremely angry with myself for my blunders, but I won't let it show. My own shame is enough. I'm well aware that I spoiled any chance I might have had to see Puck, I have no information with which to plan revenge on Sabrina Grimm, and it's likely that I might get kicked out of the Scarlet Hand.

My one small worry, as I climb up the stairs, is that Fool might pop out of her room and bother me. Fortunately, she doesn't show up, and I enter my doorway unhindered.

There's a lock on the inside. I fasten it, then throw myself, dejected, across the bed. I believe I might stay here for the rest of the day, perhaps well into the the next. Who cares? It doesn't matter.

_You failed._

I sit bolt upright. It's that voice, the same I heard twice on my journey here. Every sensible part of my mind tells me to ignore it, that it's just my imagination—but it _can't_ be! Can it?

_You were sent on an important mission, and you muddled it utterly. What's wrong with you?_

There's nothing to do but answer, see if it responds. Quietly, I mutter, "Why does it matter? Who are you?"

_Perhaps I'll tell you in time._

Not a lot of help. Not knowing what else to say, I tell it, "I know I failed. There is no need at all to rub it in. The Mayor has already done that well enough."

_Oh, that old bag of toads._

I have to force back a giggle. "My sentiments exactly." If the Voice _is_ merely part of my imagination, it's still a much better conversationalist than anybody I've run into recently.

_Don't listen to her. She wants you out of the organization. She hates you. Now pay attention—yes, you failed... but you can make it up._

"What do you mean?"

_I mean you can fix it all. You can still help the Scarlet Hand._

I consider this. If I can still be of help, if I can still be trusted, I'll be able to stay in this comfortable mansion. I'll have Heart, the sheriff, an entire army on my side to help me kill Sabrina and her family. Cautiously, I ask the Voice, "How?"

_Simple. You only need to prove yourself._

"Yes, yes—but _how_?"

_You'll see._

"Who are you?" This suddenly seems like a much more pressing question. "Please, no evasive answers this time. I need to know where you are coming from."

_Look in your pocket._

I look. There is nothing there but what I packed this morning: Titania's flute and the little plastic mirror. I take both out.

_Ah. Now I can see you._

Finally I realize it. "The mirror? But that's just cheap plastic! An old homeless woman gave it to me!"

_And?_

"And..."

_I'm not going to waste my time talking about me. I know all about me. You, Moth, that's who I'm interested in._

I sigh. "What do you want from me?"

The Voice sounds surprised. _From you? I want nothing _from_ you; I want to _help_ you._

"Why?"

_Because, Moth, I pity you. _For a moment, I scowl. I do not want anybody's pity! But then the Voice goes on. _You were treated most unfairly. It's a cruel world, and I want to make it better._

Everything the Voice says makes perfect sense. "Life would have been better for me," I say slowly, "if that Grimm girl would have just kept to herself. But coming along and stealing my fiancé—she had no right!"

_Exactly!_ cries the Voice. _You want revenge, and believe me, Mayor Heart is not the person to help you. Oh, she'll try, because she wants to get out of this town, but she's incompetent. _Utterly_ incompetent. You'd be better off trusting that silly girl than the mayor._

He's talking about Fool, of course. "I agree," I say aloud. "Did you know, the mayor really hates her? Just because of that, I'm ready to sympathize with the girl."

_I know. I heard the mayor talking about her this morning._

"You heard—?"

_The mirror was in your pocket, was it not? I was with you on your failed spying mission, as well._

"Oh." My defeat there suddenly seems much more acute, now that I realize I was being watched the entire time. "And yet you still trust me?"

_Why wouldn't I?_

"How much do you know about me?"

_Put it this way: how much do _you_ know about _me_?_

I hesitate for a moment before answering. "I know that you're a voice coming from a mirror, which is logically impossible, but that's no matter. I know that you hate the same people I hate: Heart, the Grimms... And I know you're the first friendly—and sane—voice that I've heard in a long while. Apart from that, is there really anything that I _need_ to know?"

_You've no idea, Moth. You have absolutely no idea._

"Why don't you simply tell me who you are?"

_Because it wouldn't matter. For the time being, just know that I am... a friend._

"A friend?"

_A friend._

"Fool's my friend," I snort. "She told me so yesterday morning. Just barged right in and declared herself my friend! Can you believe that?"

_You're talking about that girl with the crazy hair, aren't you? Knowing her, I don't find that at all hard to believe. She does things like that all the time, doesn't she?_

"From what I can make out, yes." I laugh. "What an idiot."

_She may not be the cleverest. But sometimes, you need to take friends whenever the opportunity comes by._


	23. The Killers

A sudden rap at the door interrupts my thoughts. The mirror makes no noise, merely sits there innocently; hurriedly, I scoop it up and place it inside my pocket. The door creaks open quietly. Fool pokes her head inside.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, gazing at the far wall. Silently, she comes over and sits herself down on the bed. Wrapping her arms around her knees, still staring into the distance, she begins rocking back and forth. "I'm so, so sorry."

Even Fool is aware of my horrifying blunder. I turn my head away from her. My eyes prickle with the unfamiliar sensation of impending tears, but I will not let them fall. I cried once, merely a few days ago. It shan't happen again.

I remember that night, barely over a week ago. It seems much longer than that. Things have changed, and they haven't. But I remember. I remember the old lady there, settling herself on my bench. How lucky, really, that she was there, that she gave me this mirror, my only friend. Fool claims to be my friend, of course, but she doesn't count—I can't stand her. Crying in front of that old lady was okay; crying in front of Fool is not.

Stiffly, I stand up. Without deigning to tell Fool where I am going, I sweep out the door. A distant roar comes from the stables, my pet tyrannosaurus rex crying for her meal. I direct my footsteps down in that direction.

I can sense magic crackling off the chains as I walk in. I wonder how long they will last. The dinosaur yanks and pulls, reaching for a short figure that stands just out of her grasp. As soon as I see who it is, I become just as enraged as the lizard.

"You again?" I ask Toby.

He glances at me and shrugs. "This is a cool animal, all right? You don't get to see a t-rex every day, 'specially not in Ferryport. Plus, this is the last place _they'd_ ever look for me."

"Oh? And who's 'they?'"

He scowls. "Technically, they're my parents. They're not. I didn't even know them 'till a couple of months ago, and I am definitely not going to try to improve relationships now. And it's really none of your business."

"Neither is my dinosaur any of yours."

"Good comeback." He nods appreciatively, the last thing I was expecting. "But around me, you'll have to do better."

"Listen, you stuck-up little insect—"

"I'm not an insect. Sheesh, nobody ever gets it right."

"Get out of this stable! You have _no right_ to come and ogle at my property!"

"You have no right to call it your property. We're even."

What _is _it with this boy? How dare he be so rude to me? Furiously, I take a step forward, but he holds up a finger.

"He-ey! Remember what happened last time you tried to force me out!"

My face burns at the memory of the mud-splattering incident. I clench my hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to bash his insolent smirk right in. Gritting my teeth, I growl out, "That was nothing. Let me tell you that I have killed people before, _many_ people, and I will not hesitate to kill you."

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many people did you kill?"

_Oberon, Cobweb, Mustardseed_. "Three, in the past couple of weeks alone." _Sabrina Grimm—soon it will be four._

"Wow." There's a new look in his eyes, a look of respect. "So far, I've only totaled one."

This catches me completely off-guard. "What?" This short, skinny boy, feet sunk deep in manure, does not look like a killer. He doesn't look dangerous in the least.

"Oh, didn't Bubblegum tell you?"

"Bubblegu— Oh, Fool, yes. She's told me plenty of things. I tend not to listen to her idiotic ramblings."

"Believe it or not, she's not as idiotic as she acts."

"Oh, I _do _believe you. Nobody can be that stupid without trying."

Toby shrugs. "Yes they can. Heart, for example."

For the first time in this conversation, I smile. "Another Heart hater—I'm pleased."

"Hah! Heart hater—nice. _Everyone's_ a Heart hater. Especially Nottingham. Poor guy. Have you seen her try to flirt with him?"

"Now you mention it, I have picked up on a few attempted coquettish glances here and there."

"They don't work, do they?"

"Not in the least."

"'Course, _you'd_ be a _great_ person to give her advice on romance, wouldn't you?"

He knows about my pursuit of Puck. He knows what a failure I am. Of course. Fool probably told him everything, up to and including my horrible blunder only this morning. The memory of the event, temporarily dispelled from my mind, comes flying back. Toby smirks triumphantly. I meet his gaze for just a moment with a glare, then turn and march out of the stable.

He chases after me. "Hey, come on! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything."

"My feelings are not hurt. Get away from me."

"No, I wanna know who you killed!"

I stop, turn, and face him. His round face is full of curiosity. Fine. I sigh and hold up three fingers, tapping the first one. "I killed the King of Faerie first of all, so that my husband might inherit the throne after him. I killed one of his servants, who would otherwise have blabbed all about me. And just the other day, I killed somebody right outside of the barrier because..." I do _not_ want to go deep into this motive. "He would have held me back."

"Wait—" Toby looks confused. "You were actually _outside_ of the barrier? Why the heck did you come in? Didn't you know about it?"

"Oh, believe me," I growl. "I do not want to be stuck in this uncivilized little place with idiots like you. I knew the barrier was there, and I fully intended to avoid it. It was all that Sabrina Grimm's fault I got stuck."

"Grimm?"

"That's what I said, insect."

"You know, sometimes I really wonder how many lives that girl has ruined."

"Too many to count, I'm sure. What did she do to you?"

"She killed my dad."

"So?"

"_So_?" Toby's face grows red, and his eyes bug out. "So she completely and utterly tore my family apart, that's what!"

I shake my head, smiling slightly. "I'm sure your 'family' was extremely grateful to be rid of you." He takes deep, angry breaths now, but he's really so small and weak-looking that I find the sight to be quite ridiculous. "You understand, Toby, you really can't try to lay all your troubles on me and expect pity. Oh, quite the opposite."

"Your name is Moth, right?" he asks angrily.

"That is correct."

"Well, _Moth_," Toby growls, "you better watch out, because real soon, I'm going to squash you flat like you deserve."

"Nice comeback," I mock. "But around me, you'll have to do better."


	24. The Intruders

I hate being cooped up.

Faerie was its own world; it stretched forever, never-ending. The so-called "New Faerie" in New York—what _was_ that? A bar and some tunnels. Nothing.

The first freedom I experienced in years was during those few days following escape when I traveled, bent on reaching Ferryport Landing. How stupid of me! How completely and utterly _stupid_ to charge in such determination to yet another cage.

The barrier around this town must be taken down. We are Everafters, not animals—the humans cannot keep us locked up!

That night, I dream that I am in a large ornamental birdcage. I rock back and forth on the perch as if it's a swing. The narrow metal bar digs into my legs, and I grit my teeth in pain. The bars of the cage are like the bars of the prison, like bony fingers holding me in their grasp. Beyond the cage is nothing but gloom. I sit completely alone.

Then laughter sounds in my ears. I look up; it's a pale face, blonde-haired and blue eyed. Sabrina Grimm.

"Stop." To my horror, my voice is nothing more than a whisper. I sound as if I'm _pleading_. "Stop."

"No." She laughs harder.

"Stop! I order you to stop!"

"Or what? You can't do anything in that cage. Stop terrorizing people now. You're _helpless_."

"Stop!" I cry again, but she's right—I'm helpless in this cage. And now I can see past the gloom; I'm not the only one. All around this place, Everafters sit like pets on display, locked away where they can't do a thing.

"Like bugs pinned to a piece of paper," says Toby's voice from a cage to my right.

"You're evil," I tell the human girl before me. "Pure evil."

She tilts her head, pretending to be deep in thought. "You know, that's too much space for you. You might get clever. You should have less room."

The cage shrinks. It shrinks slowly at first, so I can barely see it, but soon the change is obvious. Panicked, I stretch out my hands to the walls, but it does no good. The bars sink deep into my palms, leaving red lines. My elbows fold up. The hand with its bony fingers closes around me, crushing me, pushing against my shoulders and arms, my torso, squeezing my breath away—

I wake up so tightly wrapped in blankets that I can barely move. There is a clatter outside my window. Curious, I pull aside the curtains and peer out into the darkness.

It's unnaturally like my dream: an impassable barrier, and beyond it the gloom. With a shudder, I drop the curtains and back away.

Inside, the room is dark. I feel so alone in this wide, empty space. There are many hours until morning, and I do not think I can bear them all. I want, _need_, somebody to talk to. The Voice.

I pull out the little black hand mirror. "Hello? Are you there?"

_I'm always here, Moth._

"I'm—" I stop. What can I say?

_What? Scared? Scared of the dark, princess?_

"How dare you speak to me like that? The dark holds nothing for me to fear!"

_Now there's the right attitude! _I give a little sigh of relief. The Voice was only testing me. _Never be scared of anything. Go and face whatever's coming._

"This is a strange time you've chosen to impart such words of wisdom."

_No, Moth. Someone's coming now._

There's a faint creak just down the hall. Startled, I sit straight up on the bed. "What is that?" I ask the Voice, but it remains silent. I let out my wings, so that my feet can make no noise, and float over to press my ear against the door.

"—over here on the edge," says a familiar voice. "It's where the nails are, so the boards don't creak as much."

Slowly, I let myself grin. What are the chances that Sabrina Grimm would come creeping past my door just when I was lying fully awake and restless? Apparently, very high.

I dart back to my night table, picking up the two flutes and my little sack of poisons. True, there won't be much of a chance to use the herbs, but I wouldn't feel myself without them.

And then I am ready to kill Sabrina Grimm.

A quick listen at the door tells me she's just tiptoeing past, too quietly for most to hear. I have better ears than most, however. There are definitely more people with her; I'd estimate about two. One is probably the young girl, Daphne, as Sabrina never ventures anywhere without that little nuisance. But I have no idea as to who the other might be.

The only sounds I can hear are their breaths and the rustled of their clothes. As soon as those noises are gone, I ease open the door and slip out just behind them. I don't want to make enough noise to wake anyone else, but I don't want Sabrina to be ignorant as to who brought about her demise.

I fly up towards the ceiling and my lips part, just about to call out her name, but I tell myself that I must savor this moment. I want to see her shock, her eyes opening in horror as she twirls around to see me swoop down and—

And what? What can I do? Beat her to death with a flute? No, I can't; the blood would stain Heart's carpet and there'd never be an end to her whining. There's to be no fist-fighting either, as I've learned that she's so much stronger than me. I can't just poison her right here. So what _can_ I do?

I'm left with only the pixies. I take out Mustardseed's flute and play notes too high for the human ears. They gather silently around me, these little friends of light, and with another smile, I prepare to direct them in the intruders' direction.

Then Nottingham's earsplitting roar echoes down the hall, and I see them flinch. "He's found us," whispers the one I don't know, an adult. I want to land before him and tell him exactly how much of an idiot he is. Of course Nottingham found them!

The Sheriff's shadow appears inside the rectangle of light projected from a door. He brandishes a knife.

"No!" I call at him, causing all three intruders to spin around and gape at me in surprise. "Sabrina Grimm is _mine_ to kill! Do you understand?"

"You again?" Sabrina yells. "Won't you _ever_ leave?"

"Oh, no." I float lower towards her eye level, but not so low she can attack me. "No, I can't ever leave. Not until you and every one of your little _cockroach_ family is _dead_!"

"Well, she sure likes the melodrama," mutters Daphne.

"Shut up," I command her. Then to the pixies— "Take them."

"Girls—_run_!" shouts the man. But when they spin around, they find the sheriff even closer than before.

He looks up at me. "Well? You gonna do anything?"

Then the pixies are around the three, and I laugh; the Grimms and their companion look like they're fighting off mosquitos and flies, and losing. One can only expect such weakness from a human. Feeling mischievous, I direct one to go after the sheriff. It bites at his nose, and he slaps himself in the face trying to get rid of it.

As for the Grimms and the man, they seem to be trying to hide inside their coats. Idiots. The girls let out ridiculously shrill little cries, but the man rummages through inside pockets for something.

"What do you think you'll find, simpleton?" I mock. "A flute of your own?"

He looks up in disbelief. "_Simpleton_! I'll have you know I'm a _prince_!"

Sabrina rolls her eyes. "Great, his ego's been challenged."

Her sister proves herself to be slightly smarter. "Come on, Charming! Don't you have anything in there to help us with?"

"Yes, of course," he mutters, searching again. "Right... here!"

"Please, do not be ridiculous," I tell him as he pulls out a little bag. "There isn't anything that can—"

"—freeze your pixies?" He empties the contents of the bag gloatingly into the air. Immediately, each of the little lights hit with the powder freezes in its place, a little motionless blue spot.

That cannot happen. "No. No. _No!_" I raise my flute and try to blow again, but they are all unresponsive to my music. "What have you done?"

"_Now_ run," says Charming, and the three rush down the hall.

"It's OK!" Daphne calls back over her shoulder. "They'll unfreeze in a couple hours!"

"No!" I want to fly after them immediately, but without the pixies I can do nothing. I only float there in the air, blowing desperately into my little reed pipe, as my mortal enemy escapes yet again from my grasp.


	25. The Taming

"I'm useless," I tell the mirror. "Completely and utterly useless. I can't even handle three humans!"

_Charming's an Everafter._

I snort. "Hardly. He was one of those—one of those human ones, changed by magic. Not a true magical being."

_Rightly said._

"And I couldn't do a thing! Not a _thing_ against them!"

_Stop that._

"Don't you order me around!"

_Don't you be ridiculous. You're a strong person, Moth. What is this? Where's it coming from? You've never doubted yourself before._

"I've never had reason to."

_I said stop. It's just dark and you're sleep-deprived, and the nightmare's getting to you. _

"I hate the nightmares."

_I'm sorry. No person should be locked up in a birdcage like that—especially not someone as wonderful as you._

I hang my head. "Stop it. I told you, I'm worthless."

_And _I_ told_ you_ to stop. Try to get some sleep, Moth. You'll feel better in the morning._

"What if I have another nightmare?"

_I promise you won't._

* * *

The Voice spoke the truth. My sleep is peaceful, and I wake up wondering how I could have ever thought such things about myself. Me? Worthless? I am the Queen of Faeire! I will be the Queen of the _World_! I will be the one to finally kill the hated Sabrina Grimm, to free the Everafters from this cage of a town!

Bolstered, I head down to the breakfast room. Nottingham, Heart, and Fool greet me there. I give them all a glare and seat myself down as far away as I can. "You idiots. You let those two Grimms escape last night! We could have been two steps closer to getting out of this town!"

"Excuse me, but who was it that met them in the hallway?" Heart snaps.

"Excuse _me_, but whose mansion is it? It is no fault of mine that you have no adequate alarm systems. In Faerie—"

Nottingham groans. "Oh, shut up about your sparkly little fairyland."

"Watch your mouth, boor, or I shall feed you to my tyrannosaurus." I smile at the noticeable paling of his face. "Speaking of which, has the beast been fed recently?"

"Yup," says Fool with her mouth full. "Bacon."

"Shut up, or I'll chop off your mouth and your head with it." Heart turns to me. "Yes. We found this tablecloth that sets itself and produces infinite amounts of food. Your pet will be kept well-fed."

"Good. I intend to take it out today."

I watch with pleasure as Heart splutters and Nottingham chokes on his coffee. The sheriff recovers first. "Out? Like—around the town? No."

"And why ever not? I'm sure you wouldn't hesitate to do such a thing."

"Frankly, the idea of _you_ riding around on a vicious dinosaur doesn't rest too well with me."

"Nottingham, I assure you will be one of the first to die."

"Hehee!" Fool giggles.

* * *

"You again? Do you never leave this place?"

Toby shrugs. "Umm, not really."

I scoff and stride past him, focusing my attention on the enormous reptile before me. Large, slitted eyes watch me distrustfully, but since the animal is full and sees me as dominant, she makes no move to attack.

"Man, is it ugly," mutters Toby.

"She is a 'her,' not an 'it,' insect."

"Science lesson. Insects and arachnids! Different things, _Moth_."

"Yeah!" agrees Fool. "Like octopusses!"

"Exactl— what?"

I roll my eyes over my shoulder at him. "I am aware of the difference, idiot. Now shut that loud mouth of yours."

Perhaps he sees that I'm trying to approach my large pet, because for once he does as I ask. The dinosaur glares at me and shifts uncomfortably, but she still remembers how I shape-shifted into one of her kind. I stare into her eyes. _You're not a stupid beast at all, are you?_

I let my wings out gently and, as silently as possible, flutter up to her head level. Moving slowly, not wishing to startle her, I move closer with one hand outstretched.

Finally, I touch her.

Then, still moving cautiously, I circle around to the back of her neck and find a comfortable spot to sit.

Toby lets out a breath. "Wow. I hate to admit it, but that is definitely the awesomest thing I have ever seen in my life."

I fix him with my most menacing glare. "You look so tiny from up here, insect. I'm certain you're smaller than this animal's foot."

"Whatever. Can you get it to move?"

"_Her_," I correct, even while trying to figure out how to do as he asks. What could convince this giant animal to move? I could force it into submission once, and I can do it again. Tentatively, I nudge it with my heel. It takes no notice. I kick harder, and suddenly, it lets out a reptilian roar and shakes me off.

Toby's laughter rings out as I tumble headfirst towards the floor. I right myself in midair and, fuming, fall rest of the way. The moment my feet hit the ground, I kick back up and shoot towards the dinosaur's head level. Again I stare it in the eyes, but it is no longer calm. It pulls and tears at the magical chains binding it to the stable wall. Without breaking my glare, I smack the enormous animal right on the snout.

It opens its maw and roars.

I grow bigger and taller. Scales begin to coat my skin. In just a few seconds, I am again a t-rex like her. _I told you to obey._

_No!_

_I am dominant! Do as I say!_

She roars again, her voice filling the air like a deep-sounding screech. _I want to hunt!_

_You have food, unending food. _

_I want to _hunt_!_

I glance down at the two tiny figures on the floor below. _Obey me, and I will bring you to a hunt._

I switch back into my normal form and again alight on the dinosaur's neck. This time, when I touch her left side, she turns right, away from the touch. "She is learning my commands. Look what a good teacher I am!"

"Yeah, right," mutters Toby.

"Brownies isn't a good name anymore," says Fool. "She needs a new one. Like..."

"Glutton?" I ask, looking at the magic tablecloth, which is still producing food.

"Nah," says Toby. "Something cooler, like Bonecrusher."

"How about Barney?" suggest Fool. "Barney is a dinosaur from our imagination—"

I cannot believe this. "What are you singing about, Fool?"

Toby scoffs. "You don't know Barney? The purple dinosaur?"

"This sounds hideously stupid."

"It's a classic part of childhood!"

"My childhood was 4,000 years ago," I remind him. Fool is still singing in the background.

"Yeesh, you're old."

"And you are an infant."

"Whatever."

"Get her to stop singing," I order, gesturing to Fool. "Then unlock these chains. I wish to take my pet for a walk."


End file.
